Wherever You Will Go
by flawsinscience
Summary: Ric Griffin, Connie Beauchamp and Michael Beauchamp [Complete]
1. Returning

1.

Connie found herself stood at the train station on the fringes of Holby; beside her was the neatly packed case, the last one to be leaving with her, for she was on her way back to London to rejoin Michael who'd been relocated there, his leaving instantaneous as soon as he heard, her summons arriving months later. She'd spent the past few months with Ric feeling the true feelings of love and lust, knowing that it could all end in an instant, at Michael's doing. She knew the goodbye was going to be bittersweet, Michael was her first true lover and holder of her heart, she needed to go and be with him as wife and lover, but she also yearned to stay with Ric and carry on their lusting relationship, their souls only beginning to entwine in recent weeks, learning each other like a map, teaching the other to be who they were and who they wanted to be As the sound of the engines revved up behind her Connie took Ric in an embracing hug, kissing him once, tenderly on his now slightly bristly cheek, before leading him by the hand towards the door of the train, not letting go as she stepped onto it daintily, the motions of the train jolting them apart as she closed the door and stuck her head out of the window, waving him goodbye and sending him a last air kiss, which he reciprocated and she caught, holding it close to her for a lifetime, it wasn't until the ragged country side drew into view that she moved towards the warming comfort of the first class carriage. She slung her thick white winter jacket onto an available hook before taking up her seat in an empty compartment, finding the perfect moment to flick through the latest copy of Vogue, a rarity in her life now. Finding a magazine boring within the hour Connie took to gazing out of the window at the scenery whizzing past her, causing her mind to wander aimlessly

"Connie come here I want to show you something" Ric gestured towards the open gate, leading to a concealed, secret garden in the grounds of the magnificent Frances Park in Holby's city centre, the relics beheld in the walled garden at its core were known to few, it had been kept a private memory for the family who had once owned the grounds. Connie felt his sweet smelling hands encroach across her face, covering her eyes as they walked through the rusty gate and onto what Connie could feel as grass, tickling the sides of her bare flip flop clad feet, directing her further into the garden until he stopped dead and released her face "Ta da" he smiled as she took in the beautiful spread before them, a very English afternoon tea with tiny sandwiches, sweeties, cakes and of course scones to wet their appetites, all set before a cooler of the most expensive champagne even Connie had ever seen.

"_Wow, Ric its…its incredible" Connie replied feeling the strength in her knees dissipate away as she fell onto the soft thick rug, warmed by the mid summer sun high in the sky, _

"_Thought you might like it" _

The train jolted to a halt at the first stop on its three-hour journey, bringing Connie out of her happy reverie, the smell of the engine wafting in causing her too loose the faint traces of Ric's aftershave still present on the sleeve of her jumper, the one still physical memento she was clutching to him. Just as she was about to slip into yet another peaceful happy memory she felt the faint vibrate of her phone in her pocket, ruffling till she found it a feigning smile came across her face as she read its contents

Love you, miss you want you back 

Ric would be the only one so thoughtful to send a message to her, Michael though her husband would never be kind hearted, only on an odd soppy day did her ever pay the slightest iota of attention to her, she was merely a pawn to his bigger game of chess, their marriage was beside the point, but it was this, the one word she'd dreaded for all eternity that made her leave the life she was growing to love each day behind and join her husband in a big city where the credit to her name would be lost, she would be another face in a crowd and for Connie Beauchamp this wasn't enough, she needed to be someone, a person not the nameless wife of Michael Beauchamp, yet she was going to follow him, do her duties and become a person she wasn't. This tainted all her thoughts till London, it could quite easily have been two hours, she wasn't sure, but every small thing she would come across reminded her of him, of Ric.

As she stepped off the noise train, onto the equally noisy and bustling platform where Michael was stood, a smile broadening on his face as he spotted her through the crowd, the gem in his eye, she walked forcefully towards him, bag in hand, till they were inches apart, her head coming to rest on his chest, his arms encroaching round her until she relaxed into his hug, lifting her head up to give him a kiss, like a good wife which she was, reciprocating her he took her head in his hands and cupped her cheek gently caressing it with his fingers "I've missed you" he whispered softly as the moved off, his arm protectively round hers as the walked out of the station and into his new beautiful Beemer sat waiting for them both, Connie didn't bare to utter anything to him for fear of mistaking him for Ric, he was still plaguing her mind. Instead of speaking she let a smile play on her face, he wasn't to know that she was thinking about someone else, for only she knew of her thoughts.

"So how have you been?" he said eventually as the car ground to a halt outside a very nice look designer shop, Connie concentrating more on that than the impending awkward conversation, he placed a tentative hand on her thigh to bring her attention back to his question but he could clearly feel the tension within it, he put it down to the tiresome journey no doubt after a night partying, in celebration of her leaving, not to the fact she'd fallen haplessly asleep in Ric's arms, happy.

"Same old, same old" she lied, shifting her position awkwardly to avoid his leering hand, this wasn't the time nor the place for affection, not now any way, she was still in limbo between Holby and London, yearning for her old life looking forward to her new life, of sorts. "My job is all set I assume" she added, finding the topic of work a more amicable point of discussion, at least this way she could avoid the feelings of lust for Ric

"Of Course, you start in a week, figured you would need time to adjust to being down here, University College Hospital needs to be ready for Mrs B to come" Michael smiled sweetly at his wife, too sweetly she thought, there was no doubt that some floozy had been filling her position of gratification give in her absence, she couldn't care less, Ric was a much better person to be with than Michael, their reunite had confirmed that for her, he was an overprotective fool, suffocating her soul so it couldn't breath and live, with him she was a puppet not a person.

"So what am I supposed to do for a week Michael, I could easily of started tomorrow y'know" Connie huffed, she would much rather throw herself into work than potter round an empty house for seven days, getting bored rigid and moody to the point her first impression would be bad, for her and for Michael.

"Its ok I have a few days off so I thought we could go look round the city together, so you know where you are going and everything" Michael took his wife's hand in his, squeezing it gently, Connie meanwhile was fighting every urge to tense and reveal her true feelings on the situation, no longer had she come to the decision to stop herself did Michael pull away as the car darted round the corner sharply, revealing a row of old Victorian terraced houses, set back several feet from the road, each separated by their own gardens, edged with a tiny walls. Pulling up to a house in the middle of the street Michael hopped out of the car enthusiastically, moving round to open Connie's door offering a hand for her to get out, she grudgingly accepted it, following him through the front door of the house, it was equally as beautiful inside as it was out, red tiles adoring the entrance hall where he'd put up a neat modern row of hooks, she could feel him ease of her jacket as she moved further into the house, taking the first turning she gasped at the décor within the living room, its neat cream sofa's softly lit by up-lighters, the hearth set with logs and papers ready for a warm fire, behind her French doors revealed the massive kitchen diner, deep mahogany wood in the kitchen contrasting the metallic splash backs and light wood of the table, set for two with romantic candles. Beside that a nook surrounded by bookcases, containing all the master pieces people ought to have, an old chic battered looking sofa in the foreground

" Michael its beautiful" Connie smiled once she'd taken the entirety of her surroundings in, it was a genuine comment, he'd clearly made the effort in getting everything ready for her, she could even smell the food cooking away in the oven as he led her out of the room and up the stairs heading first into the smallest room at the back of the house

"It's the spare room at the moment, but I thought it may have been time for us to start a family Con, make this a neat little nursery" he commented off handly, right now Connie was too emotionally drained to care what he was saying, all she yearned for was a cosy bed and a good nights sleep, the place where she could once again think about him, about Ric. Her prayers were answered when he showed her the master suit, an elegant four-poster bed filling the majority of the room with its tasteful throw cushions and velvet covers, on either side sat a cabinet, her favourite trashy novel and photo of the two of them waiting for her, he'd been planning this for a while she could tell and it was doing wonders for her expectations of him

"The food is on but it can happily bubble away for a few hours yet, if you're hungry we can have it now I don't mind" his voice wafted through her like a fresh summer breeze, touching her soul in the way the Ric had only done before, it'd only taken an instant to switch but for the first time in ages Connie had fallen for Michael and could quite possibly venture to suggest it was lust for him, she needed to find out

"I'm not really hungry right now but this bed looks like it could do with a try out" she teased moving over to give him a hug, making the first move, when she knew what she wanted Connie wasn't liable to wait for it, she could feel his arms snake around her like grabbing at her pert rear, sending a shiver up her spine, the two of them locking in a tender kiss, turning passionate then teasing as he nibbled her chin, her neck, moving her over to the bed and pushing her back on to it, the warmth of her jumper releasing as it was cast over, revealing only the lacy, demi-cupped bra before it a blue butterfly resting between her breasts, his eye catching on it for an eternity, intermittent with kisses, spindling up and down her torso, eventually his hands resting on the clasp of her trousers, undone and too cast off to the side, as were his own trousers, then his boxers, then her thong, till they were both fully naked, open to the chilling air surrounding them, uplifting them together as he slipped inside her, filling her to capacity and then some, her long drawn out gasps music to their ears as they swayed, not once, nor twice but thrice over, lost in a moment of reunited passion.

As Connie glanced over to the clock she could see the mellow blue lights telling her that it was gone half two in the morning, it didn't feel right, yet it didn't feel wrong, he'd proven her wrong, made the proposition of Ric seem less enticing, and made the trip to London worth it, but it wasn't what she'd hoped for, for some reason, she wanted to be able to make a clear cut decision and now she wouldn't


	2. Too much to Ask

2.

It had taken a few days for Connie to adjust to the way of life she had in London, as per usual Michael had been playing the perfect husband in a loose attempt at getting her to accept his dominating decision, yet again. She couldn't help but hold the hope open that for once at least Michael truly was going to turn over a new leaf and turn into the romantic Casanova that she thought she'd married all those many years ago, that the new move to London would give their relationship the refresh it had needed. After all it had been a traumatic year for her in Holby, loosing dear friends on more than one occasion, nearly become toast at Christmas, for which Michael's absence hadn't truly been forgotten, but then again it had ended on a bittersweet happy note with Ric.

As the tenth day of her life in London was starting up, the noise of traffic increasing with each passing moment, people coming and going, swarming to the city to go to work, go to school, go about their business. Connie couldn't help but feel slightly pissed off that she wasn't joining them, Michael had promised to get her back into work within the week but problems at work had left her stuck at home, knowing no one, bored to the point of nothing. Adamant that she wasn't to lift a finger while she waited to go into work Michael had simply left his credit card for the past three days while he worked, suggesting Oxford Street might be a good place to start, she'd resented this, he clearly thought she could be fobbed off with a few days shopping and everything would be forgiven, yes he had taken the decency to spent time with her, ensure she was settling in ok, check she wasn't planning on running off anywhere but it was all this time alone, time to herself which was making her think. Holby had been a great place for her, a city big enough for her to make a reputable name, yet small enough for her to feel comfortable and safe. London she could tell was far too big and risky for her, Michael was liable to stray, she was liable to stray, or so she assumed, but Ric was burning on her mind too much, in the confusion of the move, Michael's niceties and now the lulling anger she could still feel every part of her body miss him, ache for him even. Swithering between sitting in the house and contemplating a future shaped only by Michael's off the cuff decisions and going out she chose the latter, Connie dressed in a flurry and lifted his credit card as she left.

It wasn't long past lunchtime when Connie finally made it to Knightsbridge, after half an hour on an unpleasant smelling under ground train budged between what she took to be a tramp and a teenager blaring out some obscene heavy metal music, Connie was fit to burst, huffing her way off the crowded train she relished in the fresh air as it hit her lungs when she reached street level, the fresh air found in Holby it wasn't, but it was a welcome relief none the less. Striding forcefully towards the doorman at Harrods she gave him one of her fake smiles as she passed him, heading straight for the clothes department, his card could take the sting there.

Four power suits, three skirts, numerous tops and shoes to match each outfit later Connie finally had enough of shopping. Ordering the strongest coffee going and taking to hibernating in a quite corner of the café bar, she found she had yet more time to think. She was getting a sense of entrapment, Michael was suffocating her already, they had yet to meet in a board meeting and she was starting to feel the antsy nerves of disappointment once again, it was all starting to settle out to the same pattern, she would create friends, foes, enemies, lovers in her new job, culminate them together in a farce like debacle which would ultimately lead to him saving her job, then taking off to a new country, county, city, the least distance he had to cover in order to save himself. Ric on the other hand was able to provide stability, more interested in patient care that ego care, he wasn't fussed where he worked, Ghana or Holby, John O Goats or Penzance, it was in different to him, what did matter was that he was with people who loved him, cared for him, appreciated him, and to be around people who he could cherish, Connie could safely consider herself one of those people now, despite their physical separation and soul departure.

Suddenly a frantic voice came on the tannoy, overriding the premature Christmas music, however tasteful, "This is an urgent appeal for any doctor or medical specialist to come to the food court immediately, assistance urgently required" Connie couldn't help but sigh, the Samaritan within her was pleading her to answer it but the egotistical sloth was urging her to sit tight, the former winning the battle of her conscience she rose to her feet and strode towards the noted destination, fully expecting to find a middle age man sprawled out unable to breath, she couldn't be more wrong, a young teenage girl was sat on the floor, crouched beside her was a frantic looking woman, her mum for all intents and purposes.

"Can I help you?" Connie asked stupidly as she knelt down to the girls level, she hated, loathed, and loved these cases for they were challenging, heart wrenching and heart breaking all at the same time, she let a genuine smile creep across her face as she instinctively took the girls pulse "What's your name?" she asked next, whizzing through the drilled questions she'd learnt all those years ago

"Sally" she mumbled, her still ashen face erupting light sobs as her mum vainly tried to consol her

"Right Sally, I assume this is your mum, can either of you tell me what happened?"

"She just collapsed, she hasn't had a SVT for months and the one afternoon we go out and it happens" her mum used the technical term as easily as you would asking about the weather

"Right how long since your last attack?" Connie was bemused as to the cause of the situation

"Seven months, when we last went to Guy's" the girl noted before her mum could speak "I have Romano Ward Syndrome" she said, Connie's puzzled face un-contorting as the picture got a whole lot clearer

"Ok, and it was seven months ago that you saw your consultant, if you don't mind me asking who that was" Connie was intrigued to know who her predecessor had been, what he was like, it was the one tiny thrill she got out of starting a new job, seeing if she matched up to anyone else, a trait she'd learnt from her self obsessed husband

"No we didn't see him that time, just the ED staff, as for our consultant, well we're between them at the moment Mr Rogers left a while ago, a new lady, Mrs Beauchamp or something is starting soon" The fact Connie was that lady hadn't twigged with the mother in the slightest

"Well you're in luck I'm Mrs Beauchamp" Connie smiled coyly "now as soon as the ambulance arrives I want to get you over to Guys immediately, by the looks of things you're medication isn't working and I would be happier if you were beside a defib machine, its nothing to worry about though" Connie reassured the two of them, taking to light banter in their short wait for the ambulance to arrive, joining them for the ride Connie kept a constant eye on the monitor, the patient clearly wasn't as stable as she had first thought, proven by the second attack upon arriving at the hospital. Seeing just how unstable the patient was Connie kept on trying her dam hardest to push her through the emergency department and up to her own ward, which she had no idea where it was, Michael had only informed her of the ward name and the fact it lay in Guy's hospital, Mere Ward, level three, useful…

Eventually Sally was moved from the resus room where she'd had several more attacks, increasing in frequency and severity, the culmination of this had been the uneasy decision to ventilate her and proceed with surgery, which Connie had decided to carry out herself, the connection she'd built up had been too much to waste on some cocky full of himself git of a doctor, which she could tell still inhabited Guy's.

Success was one word that had decided to grace her vocabulary hours later as she informed Sally's mother that the pacemaker had been successfully fitted and provided there were no more complications she would be right as rain in a few days, the satisfaction of this had been well needed for Connie, seeing someone genuinely pleased had been a missing part of her life in the past few months. The fuzzy feeling she got from this was enough to propel her to the maze that was her new ward, work place, and haven from home. She reached a long desk in the middle of the ward, separating the male and female bays, which she took to be the nurses station, looking for someone in a uniform other than light blue which signified nurses she thought fruitless to getting any sense out of. Spying the navy uniform worn by Chrissie Williams in Holby she moved forward to formal introduce herself, unperturbed by the sharp orders being barked at what she assumed were the Donna's of this world "Jessie, Mr Jenkins in bay three needs a bed bath, Rose go and tell that berk in room 2 to stop bleeping every time he needs someone to talk to" she turned her round on her heel as Connie let out a slightly bemused cough to notify her presence, the nurse turned round and glared at Connie "I don't respond to coughs" she barked before taking in Connie's scrubs and cold stare

"No but I don't respond to over confident gits either" Connie retorted, "I think you will find I'm your new boss, Mrs Beauchamp, cardiotharacics consultant"

"Ahh, I'm so sorry, you caught us at an extremely bad moment, the ward is overfull and AAU is dealing with a backlog, I'm not normally this rude, things just need done now not tomorrow, I'm Julia, ward sister"

"Right well I hate to add to your workload but I have no idea where my office is" Connie was interrupted by the sound of a promiscuous cough behind her, followed by a stealthy hand on her shoulder, as she turned round she took in the shocked face belonging to Michael, "hi sweetheart" she said coyly, allowing Julia to let her imagination run wild for all of two seconds before Michael broke into the discussion

"This is my wife Connie, I didn't know you two had met, Julia is the sister in charge here, errm I was looking for the minutes of the last board meeting" a light rummage in piling notes on the desk ensued as Julia pulled a thin looking folder out and handed it to him, before groaning lightly as an alarm went off from an all too familiar room

"If that man needs another chat I will throttle him" she fumed "oh and welcome to the mad house, I'm sure we will get the formal introduction come Monday but it was nice to meet you"

"You too" Connie blurted out before being led off down the corridor towards a door unlike the one from her old office in Holby, Michael standing back as she took in the new fresh looking office, subtly designed wallpaper adorning every wall and her clock hung on the wall opposing the door

"I was hoping it would be a surprise when you started on Monday but seeing as how you are here now it seemed appropriate, what the heck are you doing operating here today anyway" he asked angrily, if not a little irritated

"I was in Harrods spending your money as you kindly suggested and a customer collapsed, ironic really that it would be one of my future patients in desperate need of a pace maker and I just happened to be available to do it, not a problem is there"

"No not at all" Michael stammered "I just thought you needed a few more days off, allow me to get everything sorted here for you"

"Michael, I'm not a kid who needs her hand held, I would have been perfectly happy to have started last week, was there more than just your wish to make my office look nice"

"Yes, we are having trouble getting a male member of staff in place, I will not allow you to have two female registrars, and Cardiotharacics' does not run on PMT"

"That is sheer and utter crap Michael and you know it, boys can go play with their mechano kits in orthopods, leave the subtle work of the heart to us, now if you don't mind its been a long day and I have no energy to discuss this tonight"

"I hope you have enough energy for night in front of the telly then" Michael said making an advance to give Connie a hug, they both knew night in was code for many things unmentionable in the realms of a hospital unless in maternity and Connie was prepared to leave that side of things for several years yet. Michael clearly had other ideas on this matter.


	3. Bitter Truths

3.

Connie was in the midst of sorting her office into some resemblance of normality when Michael came knocking at her door, she knew his knock, always had done since she was his registrar all those many, many years ago. "Come in" she smirked, lifting up a wadge of files, shifting them around uneasily as she felt the presence of someone else stepping into the room behind Michael.

"Connie, this is your new registrar Miss Sherrard, she will be joining yourself and Miss Withers on the team" Michael told her haughtily, motioning towards the young brunette stood eagerly behind him, taking one look at her sort, long curls, the neat pinstripe suit covering her curvaceous form and the killer heels sent to match her own, Connie could feel the green eyed monster from within her rising up to the surface. Jealousy is a dangerous emotion.

"It's my pleasure to meet you" Connie smiled coolly, lifting up a heaving file and thrusting it towards the young registrar "first case for you, perpetual complainer by the name of Mr Butler, he needs a work up, report back when you come to a diagnosis" she continued abruptly, waiting until the pretty young doctor was out of ear shot before regaling her thoughts to Michael "why on earth was she appointed in my absence, you knew full well I was against her, Ms Merry would have been a much more suitable choice"

"She interviewed better, I just thought you would have been pleased to have the position filled, I thought I was doing the right thing" Michael replied, cupping her face lightly in his, the same action that had never failed to win her over many times before, this time however she wasn't to be fooled, pulling away from his actions she strode towards her desk chair, tiredly slumping into it.

"You thought Michael, that's the problem" she sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration "I don't need my patients to be having heart attacks when they see her stood beside their bed, hospitals are supposed to be a place of rest not arousal"

"I didn't appoint her because of her looks, she came highly recommended and interviewed well, if I turned her down it would have been highly foolish to say the least" he protested

"You may have wanted to have looked at the reasons for her high recommendation" Connie drawled "I have a full list today, we can discuss it later" Michael took the hint and left abruptly, pausing to let thought of infidelity linger on her mind, then Ric, then affairs, it all had a hurtful ring to it.

As she glided onto the ward Connie couldn't help but take pleasure in the fact Miss Sherrard, Kate as she was commonly known as, was struggling to retrieve her stethoscope from the rude patient who refused to let his tiny heart problem lie quiet.

"Mrs Beauchamp" came the familiar, southern accent belonging to her other, more preferred registrar Sarah Withers, graduate from her old haunt KCL and with a strong reputation to match, not based on the number of notches she could create but on her skills as an up and coming surgeon, for this Connie could give her the time of day

"Yes Miss Withers"

"I need a second opinion on these scans, the patient doesn't have a normal presentation but I suspect a valve defect, the echo is inconclusive as far as I can tell" she mumbled lightly, defeat wasn't in her dictionary, just like it had been missing from Connie's back in the days when she did the dog work

"Let me see the echo" Connie smiled, taking the results in hand, scanning them and spotting the problem immediately "there is something there, you were right to check though, she will need a valve replacement sooner rather than later, we can fit her in at the end of the day, good work Sarah" the registrar tried to feign a contented smile as Connie moved off down the ward to check on another patient, catching a disgruntled looking Kate on her way back up towards the nurses station "Have you reached a diagnosis with your patient yet Miss Sherrard" Connie asked contentedly

"Not yet Mrs Beauchamp, he still needs an echo but he has worked himself up into such a state I would prefer to leave it," Kate mumbled in response, feeling her cheeks blush slightly

"Well Miss Sherrard we don't want him to be kept waiting too long, get onto that echo and see me before we start the theatre list." Connie commented coldly

"But I'm not on theatre's today Sarah…. I mean Miss Withers is with you in theatre today" Kate whispered, Connie hadn't taken a shine to her and probably never would, fact of life, she was the type of person to befriend anyone, she was popular out with the realms of the hospital, and within, but to Connie she was as far as possible from popular. It must be Jealousy she thought; I'm a threat to her.

"I'm perfectly aware of that fact, but you will report to me with the results and as clear a diagnosis as you can, now, get busy" Connie huffed before stalking away,

"I really, hate that woman sometimes, drives me insane" Kate whined as she reached the nurses station, "Jessie, can Mr what's-his-face in bay 2 get an echo please" she batted her eyelashes towards the incredible gay nurse

"Darl, flirting ain't going to get you anywhere with me, but since you asked so nicely consider it done" the nurse replied, tootling off to evade the wrath of sister evil

"You know if you weren't such a flirt with her husband she may actually like you, y'know," Sarah muttered quietly, not wanting to be heard talking out of turn

"I was not flirting with her husband" Kate protested vehemently, "He's just a nice guy to be with that's all"

"Yes and if you give him what he wants you're career will fly and your moral standings plummet, choice is yours" Kate didn't quite understand what Sarah had implied immediately, for someone so incredibly clever she lacked common sense at times, as it sunk in she started off to follow Sarah but she'd disappeared off down the corridor, ready to suck up to miss big yet again, Kate meanwhile was destined for an afternoon of sheer boredom, patients, for once all seemed to be on the mend, barring any disasters it would be her and a pile of revision books, for her impending test.

"You did well today in theatre" Connie smiled lightly as the two doctors made their way down the long corridor, satisfied that all patients were recovering well, and for once Connie had been truly impressed with her registrars work, letting this fact on was a pointed move, the one thing Sarah was yet to learn was confidence in her own work, not worrying about every wrong move, but to learn from it, something each doctor would learn one day, some quicker than others Connie thought, she wasn't yet willing to give her new registrar the time of day, first impressions had not been good, but she was the least of Connie's concerns for the time being

"Really," Sarah enquired eagerly

"Yes, you have potential, now less of the talk, more of the action, I need you to get down to ITU and check the patients there, report back to me if there are any problems" Just as they were about to turn the corner onto the ward, a familiar sounding voice came up behind her, not Michael, but Nick, Sarah's fiancé

"Hello gorgeous" his voice was husky, yet warming at the same time, just the way he had been when Sarah and he had met several years before, another med school courtship, standing the rigors of time. He was about to bring her into a welcoming hug when she stopped him abruptly, aware of Connie's boring gaze into the back of her head

"Baby, not now, I need to finish up here, half an hour, please" Sarah gave him a quick peck on the cheek before quickening her pace to catch up with Connie, her face nearly pulsating in a flush of embarrassment

"Who was that?" Connie asked coyly, without needing any explanations, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction always brought it back she thought to herself, she and Michael hadn't been entirely different, young love that grew with the passage of time, lusting for one another all day at work and then falling into each others arms at the days end, it was a perfect relationship until they got power, it was the knowledge that they held something over everyone else which made them fall apart, drawing blanks as to why they were drifting apart, the reason turning up months later in their marital bed, a receptionist by the name of Nicole.

"Errm, that's my fiancé Ben, he's a general surgeon here, I am so sorry I told him not to bother me, it won't happen again" Sarah trailed off as Connie gave her a cautious smile, she couldn't stop young love in its midst, she knew that was hurtful, Ric had taught her that much, they made not have had a young love in terms of age, but he defiantly made her feel young, verging on the teenage passions which everyone has growing up, the type of love which makes you lust and yearn for someone each parting moment. Busying herself at work had dulled these feelings but witnessing such a loving relationship in public domain undid the cover up in an instant, bringing a fresh flurry of emotions to the surface.

"Not to worry, quickly finish up and get going, you can't keep someone like that waiting too long" Connie gave Sarah a quick wink before continuing down the corridor

"Mrs Beauchamp, I did come and look for you before you went to theatres, I think Mr Butler has valve failure, his echo shows it clearly" Kate mumbled, sighing as the pile of notes she has fell about on the floor

"Well you would have known that if you read back in his notes further enough, perpetual pain in the backside who can't hack waiting on the list, go and tell him that for the mean time he is stable and get him discharged" Connie turned on her heel and left Kate to it, disbelief striking the young doctor, never in a million years had she been expecting this kind of frosty reception. Once all the files were safely back on the desk before her she was about to get up and do as she'd been asked when she spotted a familiar, friendly face, in the shape of Michael.

"Miss Sherrard, is everything OK?" he question offhandedly, taking in her now dishevelled appearance

"Not really, I don't think your wife has taken to me very well, call me the slave from now on, it seems more appropriate" as she finished the flurry of emotions overcoming her wasn't to be suppressed, tears streaming down her face faster than she could furiously wipe them away "I'm sorry, its just been a hellish day"

"Not to worry, you aren't the first to cry on your first day, and won't be the last, heavens above I would have been worried if you hadn't said anything" Michael held out a tissue to her accepting hand, an electric feeling passing between them for all of an instant "look you're to upset to be working, come and calm down in my office" he gestured down the corridor, taking her hand in his, leading her down the corridor. Not noticing the looks from staff, namely Sarah who was raising a suspicious eyebrow.

It wasn't until the door of the office was firmly shut and the blinds drawn that anyone spoke, the passion that had been felt between them un-ignorable to the other. Michael stood at his desk, lightly flicking through the latest board proposal, taking in nothing, his mind wandering to the million other places it went to.

"I feel really stupid now" Kate sighed, teasing the sheets of the tissue apart through nervous habit, watching Michael carefully make his way over to where she was sat

"You shouldn't be, I really do need to apologize for my wife, she didn't take to you and unfortunately it can get like that, don't feel bad, I'll talk to her" Michael's voice was full of the reassurance of a time tested doctor, he knew it, she knew it, false to the end but reassuring non the less

"You would do that for me," Kate's face suddenly lit up, the candle being relit in a metaphorical sort of way, hope returning to her voice, Michael lurched forward to take her into a hug, she didn't relinquish, a shoulder to cry on she thought, that's all. Wrong. The kiss began as a friendly one, a quick pass on the lips, going to the longing intense one that bore all the disgraceful marks of lust, then to more that lips touching, hands wandering, his to her shirt, teasing every button undone slowly, erotically, her hands going for the proverbial jugular, resting her hand on his thigh she waited, feeling the excitement growing with him, anticipation building and building. As the sweet, stale smell of the days clothes emanated from the pile on the floor, the only noise that could be heard from the room was mild groans, attempting to be stifled, the game too easy for Michael to play as he bit his tongue, the registrar writhing under his far more experienced grip, giggling softly, then moaning, verging on the high pitched screaming had it not been for Michael's lips locking hers, a faint cry was all that was needed for them to be given away, all that it had needed this time.

Stood just outside talking to a Joe nobody Connie plunged the handle on the door to her husbands office, ready for a quiet night at home, alone, together, unprepared for what was about to come "Michael" she cooed softly, the sanctum of his office was a place ripe to let her true colours show, or so she thought. Turning to face into the room she felt numb to the sight afore her, her registrar with her husband

"Connie" Michael attempted to sound surprised as he slung Kate off his dewy body, sweeping his trousers on, Connie continued the silence, muted anger rising within her,

"Don't, don't say anything Miss Sherrard I think your shift is over now, GO HOME" she spat before spinning on her heel and leaving


	4. Stigmatized

4.

Connie sat pensive in the brooding silence ensuing in the car, a letter clasped in her hands, nervously fingering the new seal. The letter was destined for Holby, for Ric, the one promise she'd made to him was to write, keep in contact. She'd loosely forgotten the idea until last night when she'd discovered Michael pants down, much to her own disgust. Neither one of them were wanting to break the silence, Connie because it wasn't her place to, Michael not wishing to rub her up the wrong way anymore. Coward. He knew nothing of what secrets lay within that letter, he knew nothing of Ric, nothing of the life she'd led before London, nothing about her in general really, yes he knew the basics about her, more intricate details of her body but he wasn't aware that his latest foolish move being written down on paper, about to be opened up;

_Dear Ric,_

_Bit formal that isn't it, excuse my ramblings, bit of a novice at writing a letter like that I guess; bear with me. Well a lot has happened since I moved here, nothing to surprise any of us really; he went and screwed my registrar in my hospital on my turf, bastard. God that feels good, too good. That's possibly me being a bit too frank, but anyway I will move on. I hope Holby is still doing ok without me, I don't just mean the hospital for once in my life but that too. I miss it you know, I miss our little meet ups, I miss just seeing you everyday, I miss the fact we aren't together, I miss you. London life is ok but I feel kind of insignificant, perhaps it's a good thing for the power crazy Mrs B perhaps not. And to make matters worse I think Michael is getting broody, he has a room set aside for a nursery and everything, what part of no kids does that man not understand, I guess I am starting to regret my move here, I know he is my husband, I know I love him, well of sorts and I know I need to fulfil my duty as a wife to him but my heart is somewhere else, not London. Anyway for my first attempt I'll say its not bad going and leave you with that I have the joys of a conversation-less journey to work to endure, who knows what surprises will be waiting for me there._

_Connie xxx _

_P.s if you smell it you'll find something you like. _

"Connie please say something" Michael sighed as they continued into work the silence still hanging over the car like the adultery which had caused it, despite Michael's frustration Connie wasn't about to open up to him, it had happened too many times for her to attempt to put the pieces back together. A broken vase never looks good again… ever "Oh come on you know I'm feeling bad about it, stupid mistake that will never happen again, I promise" snagging his hand in hers as they crossed the busy road afore the hospital

"Not now Michael, please," Connie protested dragging her hand away and striding forward leaving him stood alone on the pavement. Astonished. Her reaction was definitely not one she'd seen before

"Mrs Beauchamp, we have an urgent case which I think you need to look at," Julia called, as Connie was just about to reach her office door and the sanctuary it beheld, sighing Connie strode back up the corridor following the sister into the side room where an older teenager was sat, her auburn hair floating out in disorganised ringlets, hemmed in by the oxygen prongs being thrust under her nose.

"Isla?" Connie was shocked; three years ago she'd waved the girl off at Great Ormond Street hospital, bound for Aberdeen.

"Mrs B" the teen smiled softly "didn't think you'd be my doctor this time around" the effects of her condition were clearly taking their toll as she continued to struggle for breath

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you here again, I thought you were happy in Scotland" Connie immediately felt herself relax, she'd always secretly looked forward to seeing Isla, one of her more feisty patients

"Aberdeen doesn't have the same calibre of night life Mrs B"

"Well I hope you haven't been drinking, does nothing for your meds, I take it from these preliminary results we have another famous Isla chest infection" Connie smiled, scribbling something on the notes before setting them down on the side, parking herself on the end of the bed

"You could say that, I've been off cylinder 02 and managing with plenty of exercise and physiotherapy until yesterday, bloody cough"

"Glad to hear it, and where would the parents be?"

"Down in the café hopefully having a stress free coffee" Isla was clearly about to roll her eyes in conclusion to her comment when a suffocating cough got the better of her

"Take it easy now, you aren't superwoman," Connie told her charge cautiously, not unlike herself Isla was strong minded and about to take advice from no one

"I know I know but some kef and met wouldn't go a miss right now, this is a bad one I can tell"

"Yeah it looks that"

"Enough of me, how have you been, loved London too much as well" Isla teased, bringing the subject round to something that always made Connie squirm, this she knew

"Far from it Michael, I mean Mr B came down to fill a post here and wanted me by his side and I couldn't refuse"

"So still no mini Beauchamp's then" Isla smiled just as Connie was about to tell her off for being nosy, but then their last meeting had flooded her mind, Isla had told her kids would be the best move possible for Connie, no matter what she wanted

"You know there never will be, now I'm going to get one of my fine nurses to sort you out with some meds and send you down to X ray and possibly CT if you can stand it" Connie could hear Isla stifle a groan, "I'll be back to check on you later, I would say take it easy but I won't waste my breath"

"Just did" Isla replied as Connie retreated from the room finding Michael stood at the desk talking away to some ditzy nurse,

"Isla McKenzie in room 2 needs a kef and met drip, a CT, X-ray and an ECG, oh and give RT a call she will need some physio, I will check back later" with that Connie stormed off up the corridor, unwilling to discuss niceties with anyone today of all days. Hearing the thunderous footsteps of Michael following her up the corridor stopping abruptly as she slammed her door tight shut, thrusting her belongings across the desk in a flurry of rage, with no clue where it had come from. Apart from Michael's clear flirtations and only a day later, the fact one of her favourite CF patients, if she had such a thing, was ailing and more ill than she was letting on and the fact Ric still played so heavily on her mind, the combination was quite possibly lethal.

It wasn't until a near the end of the shift that anyone dared disturb Connie, for the fear of being sacked on the spot, gossip had been spreading like wild fire and people were beginning to talk, a dangerous act in itself. The light inconsequential knock at the door broke Connie from her latest proposal

"Sorry to disturb you Mrs B but I thought you better take a look at this, it's the CF patient in room 2's x-ray results" Sarah mumbled, busying herself with putting the film onto the light box at the back of the office

"That patient has a name y'know" Connie remarked, standing up and stretching lightly

"Yes well, it looks like the infection is spreading extremely quickly and the ECG isn't stable, if you ask me I think she needs to get a transplant as soon as possible"

"Oh really and you would have looked at her notes and found out that this patient, Isla her name is, categorically doesn't want to go on the list, it was a choice she made years ago, we will do a lobe resection for the time being, but please be careful with this one" Connie's voice was full of weathered warnings

"Do you want me to tell her?" Sarah asked tentatively, Connie's attachment to the teen evident

"No, no its ok, you need to be getting on with other things, I don't suppose your astute friend has turned up has she"

"If you mean Miss Sherrard, she and I swapped shifts I work this week and she works next, I'm off on holiday with Nick and she wants to keep a low profile for some reason" Sarah was clearly oblivious to the gossip, a good thing in Connie's eye, the fewer close colleagues who knew, the better. With that the busy doctor bustled out of the room and left Connie to collect her thoughts, things in life were never simple

"Isla can I come in" Connie asked as she opened the door to the side room, waiting for the cheerful nod of approval before stepping into the room, Isla's parents sat nervously beside the bed "the results do indeed show a major chest infection which needs more than medication I'm afraid, it would be easiest if we take you into theatre and remove the infected tissue"

"Just what I need, another operation" Isla rolled her eyes, a front she always put on, it was only on the odd occasion that Connie dared interrupt her alone that she realised quite how fragile she really was

"It will make you feel a lot better, I hate to bring it up again but have you had any further thoughts on transplants, it would be the answer to all our problems" Isla's mum was about to speak when her daughter cut in

"Connie, you know that I do not want a transplant so don't even suggest it"

"But it could give you another ten years"

"Or it could give me a few months of being cooped up in ITU with no chance of surviving, I'd prefer to fight this battle on my own" Isla could see her parents sadness, they had always pushed for her to have a transplant, to have their daughter for longer, even if it was only a few months but Isla had disagreed from the outset, she'd made friends in hospital, friends who had CF, who had had a transplant and died, she'd made her mind up long ago it wasn't going to happen to her.

"Isla please, it could give you more time"

"Mum, no, we've been over this time and time again I am not having a transplant, please try to understand" Connie was beginning to regret ever bringing the idea up, had she not heard Isla mutter the words "go home and see the others" she would have upped and left but she waited until Mr and Mrs McKenzie shuffled out of the room

"They mean well" Connie smiled slouching into the chair

"I know, their my parents, the love me, blah, blah, blah, Mrs B you are turning into every other doctor I have met, I just want them to understand I don't want to have a transplant, I don't want to go like that"

"Go like what?"

"Like heaps of other people with CF, they all get a transplant and keel over a few years later with heart failure, I just don't want it"

"I know you don't and I think it's an extremely brave decision, your parents are just hurting themselves, you are one heck of a personality and too loose you will be upsetting for them, they just want to spend as much time as they can with you, its not wrong is it, they are just as scared as you are"

"I'm not scared" Isla protested vehemently though clearly disagreeing with her own statement

"You and I both know you are terrified but its perfectly understandable, I wouldn't be as strong as you are"

"It's not about being strong though is it, it's about surviving, I wouldn't call myself strong"

"If I didn't know how old you were I'd say you were 90 with that kind of statement" Connie joked lightly, hurting herself, knowing it broke every rule in the book to get attached to a patient but finding it helpful for her too.

"Pfft, isn't he waiting for you?" Isla teased pointing to Michael waiting at the nurses' station, Connie hadn't dawned on the fact her shift was nearly over and she was off home for another round of disagreement, rather guilty silences that were haunting their new home, distasting the fresh start they'd given themselves, his doing.

"Yes but he can wait a little longer the fool" Connie smiled, realising he was in the midst of letting her letter to Ric slip into the outbox tray.

"What has he been up to now?"

"The usual, two weeks I have been back and he goes and does the dirty right here, the man has no morals" Connie could feel the tone of her voice regressing to her teenage years, the tone that you get when talking to friends,

"Then why are you still married to the man," Isla questioned casually, but it meant more to Connie, precisely what was the reason for her being with Michael still, Ric was the better option, he loved her, Michael liked her, or at least used to, it was more convenience really, neither one wanted to go through the hassle of divorce and neither wanted to face awkward questions of separation, to be together made sense, but each knew the other strayed, so why was she hurting so much over this slip of the belt so to speak

"I really don't know anymore but that's an entirely different story, I'll take a leaf out of your book and forgive him this time, its getting late and you need to rest I will see you bright and early tomorrow, sleep well"

"Not possible, you know to follow your heart Connie, its what's best," Isla said as Connie moved off towards the door, looking back briefly before going over to Michael

"It's been a long day, take me home" she sighed, letting him put a cautious arm around her, its was a strange move for Connie but then again the lack of arguing had also surprised him, was it all about to change?


	5. Forgiven, not forgotten

5.

Stony silences rained down on the luxurious Beauchamp household the morning after the previous nights admittances, forgive Connie may have done but forgetting was something she was more unaccustomed to. Leaving Michael with the feeling that he was in the clear proved more fun than not speaking to him at all, winding him up with his guilt ridden gifts, the first of which had come this morning in the form of a bunch of elegant lilies, tossed in the bin outside. The second lying dormant at the table, a champagne breakfast, he forgetting the fact that she was still on call. Her favourite mug sat half full of hot steaming coffee, its aroma wafting from its spot on the table, fanned by Michael's movements and grumbles at the days news adorning his choice broadsheet.

"Michael if you are that disgruntled by the happenings in the world you should take a look closer to home" Connie sighed eventually, hacked off at his aristocratic comments by now in full flow, slinging mud in every direction but his own. For someone so intelligent he was lacking the self-modesty everyone in the world attempted to maintain in life

"Oh she speaks," he grumbled sarcastically, folding the jumbled paper onto the table,

"Could you be any more up yourself Michael, first you go and summon me down here out of the blue, then you sleep with my registrar and now you have the indecency to treat me like a child"

"Because you are my wife,"

"Excuse me,"

"Marital duties Connie, did anyone ever fill you in on them, tradition is man leads the family, household and everything occurring in it, and as my wife I wanted you to come to London, Kate, well Kate just happened"

"Since when has our marriage been conventional Michael, its not the fact you slept with someone else, I've coped with that before, no what's different this time is that you decided to do it on my territory, with a member of MY staff, does the idea of being discreet ever cross your horny mind?"

"I think you will find its our territory Connie I work there too you know,"

"You are the bloody high powered Chief Executive, it doesn't mean that you get the right to fuck any member of my staff that you like. Jesus Michael I just held out for the iota of hope that you would have the decency to leave me with some dignity"

"Connie, how dare you, you aren't angelic yourself, and anyway it's partly your fault…."

"Do I want to know why exactly?"

"Because you treated her like dirt, Connie a humble registrar she may be but she does have feelings,"

"She also has a pair of decidedly long legs, and the chest size to match, I didn't come down in the last shower Michael, she got the job for her looks as much as anything"

"She got the job because she was the right person not because of her looks, but clearly you think otherwise, so what you would prefer everyone to be just like you were as a registrar, a semi pretty geek who held her job in too high a position, is that it?"

"Michael I'm your God damn wife, and just because I felt the need to work hard at being a registrar didn't stop you, if I remember correctly you were the one who seduced me first"

Michael flushed slightly at that comment; she did have a point, he'd taken her on as a bet, the first one to sleep with her got 100 quid, a cheap bet born out of consultancy boredom, he'd been proved wrong however, she'd been surprisingly good, the first person to truly get under his skin in a very, very, very long time. There had been something about her, an enigma, something mysterious about her approach to life that he'd taken a shine too, fallen under her spell so too speak. "I…. errm…. well"

"God Michael, you were shallow then, I knew you only slept with me then for a bet, you are shallower than a puddle"

"It wasn't like that, Connie you were different, special, I stayed didn't I, and I married you, that is surely worth something"

"Not really, you found out about the implications of that night and felt the need to stand by me, twelve years later and here we are, you still screw anything and every living thing in sight, no change there clearly."

"Connie please, I hate so see you like this, all upset,"

"Should have thought of that before you did it, I'm going for a walk and don't bother following," Connie rose from the table in a fit of anger, calmly walking to the hall table, picking up her keys, phone and coat from its hook before slamming the door, causing Michael to recoil in shock, he'd expected her to react badly, just not quite like this, in two minds whether to follow her or not. Deciding he liked his anatomy in its current state he figured a lazy morning in front of the TV would be time well spent. Respecting her wishes would earn him at least a few brownie points.

Fuming was an understatement in describing Connie's emotions, she was fizzing at Michael for being such a berk, fizzing at Kate for being seduced by her leering husband, pissed off because it had taken place in her ward, feeling cheated out of her clean start and generally hacked off at the undercut methods he'd been using to control her, sex was the one thing she held in high regard, and he was using it as a bartering tool, another everyday thing that was becoming less and less important to him by the passing day, the fact that since their first night together they hadn't slept together spoke volumes to their relationship. What relationship? His dirty doings had only served to heighten her awareness of the state their marriage had disintegrated into. She'd been fooled by his effort in settling her in, making her comfortable for the rough ride she'd had so far. Ensuring that just when he needed her she would be there to hold his hand, play the loving wife to anyone willing to hear it, a façade, a mere mirror to the relationship they wanted everyone to think they were having.

Then it would come again, in the midst of everything, the turmoil and anguish, out would come the comparison to Ric, always comparing, seeing who was the better match for her, who could give her more of the loving sustenance that she craved, desired, wanted…. Everytime she thought to compare it Ric would win hands down, he lacked in the ability to provide the material things in life, a nice house, a swanky car. She didn't want that. All she needed was someone who appreciated her for what she was, love her for the person she was, and just enjoy being with her. Michael was the polar opposite, he was more than aptly able to provide the material for life, just lacking in the emotional intelligence of living, loving and caring. The essentials to a proper wholesome life, the life Connie had been jealous of, her career stopping that dead at the tender age of 18 when she took on the challenge of medical school.

Leaving Holby had been the biggest mistake of her life; she was regretting it now on top of everything else, she'd gone from feeling the positive effect of love to being the victim of its cruel sister, lust, and she was damn sure that is wasn't pleasant, for the very reason it made her the one thing she couldn't bear to feel, vulnerable. Being so with Ric was ok, her true personality without its veils was what Ric saw, vulnerability came with the package, but in public, in front of Michael it was a no-no, it just showed weakness, the evidence of a crack to her double life, letting a secret she didn't want to seep out appear, trickle slowly out, like a knife to skin, a knife to the midpoint of shoulder blades, often referred to as backstabbing, something which she took pleasure in, but now felt its acidity, the cold blooded sting with which it left.

The gentle pulsation of her phone in her pocket immediately caused her to groan, it was most likely to be her waste of space husband, a number she came close to deleting on more than one occasion, squinting at the coloured screen proved her to be wrong, the flashing picture of Ric drew a smile onto her face as she flipped the phone open, her iced heart melting as his honey drew tones drifted down the line "Connie, I got your letter, please say you are joking" his voice however worrisome couldn't do anything other than soften her anger

"No, no I wasn't joking, sadly" the waver in her voice was only angry music to Connie's ears, he'd hoped above everything else that Michael would keep his dirty little tricks to himself, time apart had proved the best healer for Connie, he wasn't pleased with the thought that all the progressed had been backtracked so quickly.

"I take it this has everything to do with Michael and him…um…. Shenanigans"

"Yes it does, I have yet to make peace with him, I can't quite frankly, he sees fit to blame me now, I didn't think he'd stoop that low, screw my staff and slump the blame on me"

"That man surprises even me sometimes" Ric sighed "and I would assume this registrar is paying for severely,"

"Not exactly, I haven't spoken to her since, I'm worried in case I do something I will regret"

"Oh how the mighty have fallen"

"Ric this isn't a laughing matter, the man had been a jerk and I am at faults as to what to do, you being sarky isn't helping"

"I'm sorry Connie, you're just surprising me, that's all"

"I do that to most, just answer me this, if you were me, what would you do?" Connie could hear the line run dead for all of two minutes, faintly make out the slow deep breathing only known to Ric, his contemplative breath she'd joked, poking fun at him when she was at Holby, when she was home, home being the place were friends, family, lovers reside, not some over rated city where your husband happens to be, forcing you into a job where your opinion is valued as much as a cleaners because of your gender, the place where you feel out of place, the place not called home.

"How willing are you to spending the next fifteen years in jail" Ric said eventually, the reception of a nervous laugh expected "because short of ridding the world of your husband I suggest you come and take a break in Holby, I miss you"

"I miss you too but I really can't the hospital is too busy at the moment, its out of the question, anyway Michael would just be left free to do again"

"But without your knowledge, surely that's worth something, please Connie remember the offer is open to you, come home,"

"I will keep it in mind, if I survive Christmas I would love to right now I need to stay here,"

"Need or must, look I need to go I have a patient incoming but please don't hesitate to call Connie, I am here for you" the line went dead, stone cold dead, Connie sighed and closed the phone, he'd given her food for thought, just how was she going to tackle the problem before her?


	6. The Humilation of home

**I'm not to blame for anyone's corruption upon reading the last few paragraph's of this part, it came at an unfortunate time and needed to be written:P anyway enjoy, I know a few people have been waiting for this, I'm sorry just tooo busy at school. **

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_Part Six_

Three weeks of uncomforting silences had raged, torn and tattered the Beauchamp marriage, what sordid remains had been left, coming and going on notable different shifts so as to avoid the other, petty by anyone else's standards but a necessity to them. Connie had been in futile torment over whether to leave Michael or not, complicated only by the pathetic excuses for an apology, remorse lacking in every monosyllabic grunt he sent her way, not that she particularly cared, every move was one stage closer to her giving up on London and returning to Holby, stopping her was only the dread of a messy marriage and the fear of risking her comfort, if a little mundane lifestyle. The phone call from Ric had been accompanied by a letter arriving several days after their call, bringing with it the one way ticket to Holby and the promise of a floor to sleep on, by anyone's standards that would have been a petty attempt at getting her back but to Connie it was priceless, it gave her the escape route she'd craved, the opportunity to drop everything and run if she wanted to, and after the day she'd had temptations and desires had been left running high.

Not only had she lost one of her favourite patients, it had been preventable, saveable, serving to make her pity and self loathing far worse, to loose a patient for Connie was bad, too loose a preventable fight increased the emotion ten fold, had her registrar called her sooner the girl would still be fighting in intensive care, but it hadn't been, Isla had slipped through her hands like the sands of time, slip sliding away to nothing, Michael had been reliably notified of her death, suspect in being related to MRSA, something beholding fear in most doctors, hurtful truths for Connie as she was reminded of the last time she and the super bug had encountered, the distrust, the affair, the dishonesty, the cockiness of Michael and the humiliation, most of which had bypassed Michael's emotional capacity, leaving her stone cold to help.

Had it not been for Ric to have the ability to sense her extremely emotional state during a particularly hairy operation Connie could be guaranteed that she'd be lying six feet under in Holby. It was testament to the hurt he'd caused her, and she could see the vicious cycle beginning in front of her, insensitive husband meets pretty leggy female, sleeps with her, blames Connie for lack of sustenance, messes up at works, blames Connie, leaves her so emotionally drained that he cannot cope, he runs away, calls for her to follow him, it all begins again.

She could feel her mind and soul untwist unnaturally as she sipped on the Russian vodka before her, rapidly refilling it as the feeling moved down her body, tingling like she used to, the feeling that came long ago from being in Michael's arms, feeling special, feeling wanted. It was a distinguishing mark of a low point when the only place inside the county that she could get this feeling was from a bottle, a glass bottle, not a human but a lifeless object. Fingering the remnants of the colourless liquid lying on the rim was decisively similar the anticipatory feeling she got just before climax, the nervous tension about to be over spilled into some form of anguish in this case, release in the comparative, anguish that was fast overcoming her to produce fury, torment and disgust, verging on the deadly sin wrath, hatred for life, hatred for numerous people, namely her parents for letting her be born, staff in various places for playing their part, hatred for herself in not following her heart, anger at life in general for ensuring her confidence and self belief were shot down at every most inappropriate moment.

Intrusion at this point in Connie's self inflicted wallow in self-pity was always to be avoided, even the current staff knew this, she was liable to either rage at them with contemptuous fury or sack them right there on the spot, neither desirable, neither wanted. Right now the one thing Connie could be doing with was feeling wanted, feeling loved, appreciated and nursed, she may personify perfection and confidence but to the few people under Connie's skin new it to be otherwise at the best of times she was vulnerable. Compounding this vulnerability was fear that someone not close enough to her would discover the true her. Slowly she began to come to her senses, building up the solidly protecting barriers, shielding her from the painful viewpoint of life, noting the extra presence in the room, a silent figure clad in navy uniform. "Mrs Beauchamp, this was found in Isla's belongings, it's addressed to you" the peppy nurse told her concisely, handing over the pale pink envelope and leaving as quietly as she'd left. Connie remained dumbstruck as the idea of a voice from the beyond perturbed her; just what she needed right now. As she released the weakly set seal she pulled out the solitary letter written on matching pink paper, no longer than a side

_This is going to sound totally stupid, here I am wasting time on writing a letter to my doctor, but I guess if you are reading this it means that you are mourning my loss. Its not your fault Connie, can I call you that, fine Mrs B, it was my time to go, please don't be mad at anyone except perhaps that waste of a space husband of yours he really treats you like royal shit sometimes, I was wrong about him, go see this mysterious lover of your life and tell mike to sod off. If you ask me you're better off without him, now go Mrs B go. Forget about me now, and MOVE ON. _

As if like a light bulb had been turned on Connie felt like she knew where to go, what path to take, what choice to make for her, the option of staying in London gone, hard and fast, instantaneously, there really was no point in sticking around any longer, with someone she felt only mutual feelings towards, staying in a place where she knew no one, cared for no one, stood out to no one, it was crystal clear that her feelings were all that counted now. It was final.

It had been less than four hours since she was sat in the comfort of her office in London, yet she found herself sat on the red eye train to Holby, attempting to talk her conscious mind round to the idea of eloping in the middle of the night, behaviour normally reserved for over hormonal teenagers, but she couldn't fight the spark in her soul, spirit's rekindling from their brisk put out, her body tingling from the feeling of being alive, not the doctor, the professional, the mask, the unleashing of Connie, Coco, the girl inside her, not the ice queen she'd grown to become, grown to adjust, learnt to be the person she wasn't. Unleashing it was like a release to match all climaxes, all releases, and all excitement. She could feel the gentle flurry of snow hitting the window, turning it ice cold, cooling her burning cheek as she rested it, contentedly watching her smiling reflection in the window, drifting in an out of the conscious world, standing on the powerful borderline between happiness and guilt, walking its tightrope and haphazardly falling onto the former, relaxing into its comforting embrace, soon to take the form of Ric Griffin, though he didn't quite know it yet. Figuring a meet at the station would be a much more romantic and appropriate way to go about things she fished in her bag for the swanky mobile she'd been given for Christmas by her husband, attempting to work it had issues though, for someone with more brain cells than she cared to count, working the tiny piece of equipment proved more difficult than its worth. Giving up on the idea of meeting him anywhere else but home she laid the bag down to the side and continued her stare out of the window, feeling more contented as the familiarity of Holby drew nearer and nearer, the looming building that was her former work place scanning into view, the run down part of town, the tiny council housing where many of her patients originated from, the posh part of town, near to her previous home, the place where she'd been happy before. Then the station.

At near enough two am the roads in Holby were more than deserted, the journey to Ric's tiny bedsit taking less than fifteen minutes, the walk to the door taking less than 10 seconds, the pause at his doorbell lasting an age, the answer coming quickly as his dazed looking form came to the door, squinting through the frosted glass, astonished as he met her gaze, her hands, her body, her lips, all in an instant, words not needed as they began to explore each other.

Taking her hands and clasping them tighter than tight as she was led through to the tiny one roomed apartment, the futon already made, dirty underwear lying strewn on the floor, a suit hanging uneasily from the door, curling against the damp mould surrounding it on the walls, the wretched stench masqueraded only by the over use of perfumed sprays, the old dying lily's laying on the side table, next to the watch he'd taken from Ghana, the sepia toned picture of his father guarding it. Their lips had barely parted before the met again, this time as they lay on the bed, the wondrous tingle of electricity flowing between them as they fumbled with each others clothing, he unbuttoning her shirt carefully, she ripping his trouser zip down, top off, trousers off, skirt of, suspenders off, shirt off, bra off, boxers off. They were naked, they could feel each others skins against theirs, her mouth exploring his chest, tingling it with kisses, his skin dewing slowly as she tenderly caressed it, becoming excited, her mouth moving further down his body, past his navel, coming in contact with it again, her lips encasing it, gently squeezing it, increasing in strength as his delightful groans got more intense in the process, her eyes capturing on his smile as she continued her skilful work, stroking it this time, back and fourth to bring about passion only reserved for these moments, fantasy, irresistible pleasure. Her hands took over, pulling the squeeze closer to the tip, not quite reaching the foreskin, stopping before he reached climax, the ultimate tease, his response, to weaken her elbows with kisses and let her fall upon him, her breast continuing to tantalize his skin as she lay there on top of him, letting him take his turn to explore her, feel her silky sweet smelling skin against his lips the trail of butterfly kisses encapsulating her neck like a twine of lilies capturing the essence of their lust. Rolling over in a swift movement caused Connie to succumb, lying vulnerable to Ric's movements, however gentle. His kisses grew in strength as he tumbled them down her abdomen, taking time to make each one count towards her ecstasy and pleasure, swishing his tongue up her leg and onto the border of her thigh Ric could feel her skin begin to buzz beneath eagerly awaiting the next reaction, the entering, the key to her lock, the person to untwine her soul from its ivy bond grasp, release the pent up emotional angst she'd been bequeathing. It felt more than good, it felt like an amazing release as he entered her, teasing her g spot with his tongue, preparing it for the best part yet, his mouth drawing out, licking her juices as he did so, pushing his way back inside with the aid of kisses berating on her tummy, flaring out round her navel in sporadic enjoyment as she grasped at her lips with her teeth, easing any urge to cry out, the chase more thrilling that the capture, the anticipation worth more than the fall, the collapse into his arms. His movements began as she felt the thrust forward and back, forward and back, the motion going deeper as her clench released, letting him fall way passed he g spot, the territory untouched for so long that she was forced to forget composure as she let herself relearn the landscape, the part of ones self that is left for intimate lovers to use, tantalise, fondle, each word an expression to exceed the last, to produce no other sound but happiness in the form of illegible, unspeakable cries, the kind that makes the other scream in pleasure, excitement, lust. It went deeper than that for these two souls, it was the rebinding of the bond, the chemistry being restarted, the experiment taking off from where it was left abruptly, rudely interrupted by the man who perceived himself as god. He finished, as easily as it had come to them, it seemed right to stop, act with a little modicum of dignity, provide the want for more to sustain them, leave a last bit to entice once again, a reward. A point to her return, the best part falling into his arms afterwards, to have the hug reciprocated, be loved back, receiving not just giving, "I missed you" she feigned the smile reaching across your face

"By that performance I'm not in the slightest surprised" Ric spoke his words softly, a continuation of their show, the husky tones wafting to her ear with the ease of a harmonic choir

"I thought I could make it work in London, I thought it would be ok, I thought I didn't need you" her sentence cut off by his dark finger pressing to her lips, a wordless sign to leave the moment unspoilt.

"We'll talk in the morning, just rest Connie, you deserve it" she faded slowly in his arms, wilting like a rose spent for time, ready for the rebirth of morning light….


	7. Opposites Attract

7.

Light came streaming into the room as the morning after dawned, thoughts clearing, senses coming back to the forefront of the mind, life outside the room continuing to turn, the comings and goings disturbing Connie of her peaceful sleep, dragging the complexities of her situation to mind, the guilty thoughts perturbing her as she stirred from her comforting position in Ric's arms, detangling from him made her fully appreciate just how brilliant the previous night's passionate actions had been. With Michael the comparable had always been to screw one another with intensity to rival other relationships, take as little time as possible to satisfy needs, turn away fro m the other and replace lost clothing items, as formal as their jobs, a reflection of the intense effort the drove towards it, towards topping the career ladder, the one thing they HAD to reach, no regard to feelings, emotions, loves, the job and the job alone. Ric couldn't be more polar opposing; true feelings had controlled their every move, heart to heart, lust-to-lust, indulging the other as though they would be gone the next day. Every second counting, not to the minutes till its end, to the minutes it would continue going. Realisation was beginning to dawn though, bitterly reminding Connie that Ric was not her husband, not the person whom sexual rights belonged to, but a bit on the side, more than that, a lover, a tease, a friend, a soul. Being in the crampt little bedsit was much more fun, risk taking, worthwhile a venture than safe little Mikey, the geek picked on at school would ever be. Slipping her feet the short distance to the damp floor Connie instinctively placed them back into the Prada heels that her brought her home, fumbling round the darkness for her clothes, picking them out from the myriad of stuff afore her. His hands lifted from their rested position and up to his sleep filled eyes, confused as to what was happening "Connie?" his body was telling him to follow the instinct that it was only she that could have been there.

"Ric, look I'm sorry this is a huge mess, I need to go, I need to get back to London with Michael," her voice was vagrant in hiding the confusion lurking beneath the surface

"No, Connie, don't go, you can't we haven't spoken," he mumbled in response, sitting up with considerable ease, figuring alcohol had been absent from the previous nights misdemeanours, surely a good sign that any action had been based on the correct, impulsive human response, not some lack lustier human poison induced flurry of over exertion and stress in the manic world of life.

"We don't need to, I want to, sorry I need to go home," her speech was brought to an end as Ric shuffled over the bed towards her, relaxing his rested hands on her back, moving them slowly and methodically up towards her neck, meeting the waiting hand at her shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on it.

"Can't we at least have some coffee first," Ric suggested mid philandering, speaking each word softly into her ear, letting her turn back round to face him, only the bra and thong set he'd bought her for her birthday, his gaze locking on the tiny rose bud resting on the flat of her chest, a focus point for his eyes, his heart.

"If you insist, but I can't stay Ric its not right, I belong with Michael," she protested, averting her gaze as he replaced his boxers and lifted his regaling carcass to standing, hopping about like a mad man as his foot felt something sharp beneath it, content at watching Connie feign a bout of the giggles, true emotions, however infantile.

"You do realise that if you tidy up once in a while it prevents that," Connie chuckled, happy to be taken off to the more serious topic in hand, anything to prevent thought was in her opinion worth the while and time of day.

"Ha, ha, if I knew you were coming I'd have tidied up," he sighed, moving towards the cupboards in the corner of the room that constituted a kitchen.

"It would have ruined the surprise,"

"No it would have heightened the pleasure, besides I would have to question your reasoning for coming back here, our phone call hardly revealed much beyond the fact Michael is a berk"

"Possessed by Lucifer more like it," Connie mused lightly, picking at the damp carpet with unconscious skill "apparently I was a bet, all those years ago when he first seduced me, I was a bet" tumbling the words down the rocky mountain Connie strained to see if Ric had caught them, be bowled over by them, or let them drop by the way side, the former.

"Does this man sing from the same hymn sheet as most men?" he questioned idly, feeding the two tacky mugs with hot water from the kettle, stirring the cheaper still granules methodically.

"I doubt it, I thought I was under his egotistical barrier, I figured if I stayed close to him it would be easier than battling with him, he was my boss and the slightest upset would wreck everything, he had a hold on me and I took his hand, grasped it as tight as I could"

"So you don't accept responsibility for the Beauchamp wrath of fury that leaves no stone unturned in its path," Ric slumped down onto the unmade bed, handing her the coffee, her hands cradling it like a baby.

"Hardly, I was the fearful sidekick to the shenanigans, the person whom kept his feet this side of the sun, he had power over me, Ric, he used it too, anytime I got to thinking by myself he'd suffocate it," her offhand tone was startling to Ric he'd always perceived her to be more caring towards her husband than that, yet in hindsight he understood, suffocating a woman from her feelings, making her feel devoid was morally unjust, he knew this from Ghana, woman had their uses, some cruel but they had hearts like men, portraying them in other ways, more vulnerable, more susceptible to persuasion.

"And you've told no one of this, Connie how could you go along with it,"

"Because I thought I loved him, love makes you do beyond stupid things, I decided that anything he wanted of me was word, that I was practically his servant"

"So you saw the sense then I take it"

"Finding out I'd been a bet made me feel so small that I couldn't bear it, I'd always had my dignity if anything else, that admission saw to that with untimely ease,"

"You should never of left," Ric regretted, taking their empty mugs and placing them on the floor, pulling the covers upon them both, her body language still reserved, attempting a hug, feeling it the right thing to do, reading Connie is like attempting to understand the workings a brief history of time, attempting and failing at every hurdle possible, second guessing a natural instinct with her, asking what she wanted out of the question.

"But he is my husband, we're bound by law, I needed to be by his side, he wanted it I had to follow"

"You need to start following your heart, Connie, it may not always be right but it's a clearer thinker than your mind, he had control of that, not your heart though,"

"No you'd have control of that," she admitted easily, her feeble body loosing the last of the ability to stay in control, stay away from him, denial. His face contorted into some form of a smile, his arms relaxing around her slightly shaking body, feeling its emotions seeping through, some weirdly sick form of release, as he did so a mental note struck to his mind to see to Michael upon their next meeting.

"That is a compliment few have paid me," Ric spoke his words gently, sincerely, reading the situation correctly, second guessing it right for once, intelligence of man winning one tiny battle in the reprimand of another's foolish selfish moves.

"What you mean none of your countless wives"

"No, simply, no, love is fickle its mysterious till you discover its enigma, then well its like a returning cupid, shooting you at every possible moment" her body had ceased to quake, progress, last night had clearly been the enticement to rediscover her soul, guarded tightly by the depressing choking smothering life she'd been living, a light blown out by cruel winds of want and held in a dark foreboding corner of the castle of lust, controlled by the son of Lucifer. Escaping it was like releasing the shutters, dusting the cobwebs and bringing her to the light, guiding her back to normality, but for the amount of time spent cooped reality, normality was slipping away from her, taking the high road home, an outward force entitled love springing her soul to home, airing it in the gardens of Eden, simple places where fickle emotions took hold, its form indistinguishable, this case being a stingy bedsit, north side of Holby, other cases, a far off beach in some romantic country.

"Since when did you become so full of wisdom" Connie smiled, her petite hand resting on his larger more masculine one, ivory on ebony, white on black opposites attracting, polarising their feeling, his of strength to protect her vulnerability, her light to brighten his dark, his optimism to her pessimism, attracting each other like polar opposites on a magnet, the magnetism between them confounding in that simple touch, a hand to a hand, lips to lips, all talk an no action making the relationship dull, time lost that needed making up, the need to pronounce their relationship back on track, last night trailing the run, skiing the slope for the first time, attempting to gauge each other, test the competition, race over, game won. It was easier this time, taking it slowly, enjoying each passionate moment, savouring it for the timeline to a life, diaries of memories, visual images of enjoyment, pleasure, lust, contemplative wonderings at life, deciding which side of the path the memento would take, good or bad, right or wrong, moral, ethical. The memories overlapping as she lapped up his attention, berating his body with kisses back again, his neck, his shoulder, relaxing on his abs, pausing as he undid the clasp of her bra, skilful releasing it in one movement, a seasoned pro, a lover, with clear evidential factors, her bare shoulders tickled by his deep breathing, the tiny minute hairs on her skin standing on end, goose pimpling underneath, expecting the expected, doubting nothing, the path already cleared from the previous night, brightening it with the untwisting of yet more bound ivy, caressing her skin like daggers, removed; released by his dexterity, replaced by soft tenderising lilies, soothing her skin, like his touch, taking the sting away from the scratches to her surface, healing it like phoenix tears, the lightening striking as he entered her, rhythmically dancing her, amusing each sensual nerve ending, titivating it to excitement, numbing out the emotional receptors, awakening the senses anaesthetised by Michael, furthering inwards, taking her dewy leg in hand, sliding on its wet touch, his body smoothly moving upwards, inwards, taking the process a stage further, her whimpering of life turning on its head, like a magnet, north to south, quiet to loud, piercing the room, the building to shatter point. Her squeeze tightening uncontrollably, spasming, a sign it was flaring, exponentially growing, twice within a day, quadruplicating in life. Right? Wrong? Neither could give a damn, teasing the sheets from around them so they were full onto the world, singing the praises from the rooftops, well from the inner sanctums of a run down Victorian terrace. Her turn. Guiding her hand south she could feel the intensity draw her to his north with speed, velocity greater than light, thrusting motion to match, same as last night, like several months ago, a teasing touch that drove him bananas, tickling with her finger, teasing with her thumb, tingling with her hand, his only task to sustain, passing with flying colours, as her kisses fell further down his body, teasing the skin just afore his navel, contorting her tongue, lips encasing it, sucking gently, pushing harder, sucking harder, pushing gently, constantly changing modes to never let the lightening go out, thunder rumbling along on their path, the wet rain produced on their bodies throwing them for cover, the cover of love, lying dormant on the edge, a safety net, a cocoon, a wholesome place to cower from life, from emotion shit aimed at preventing them from the unpreventable, surrounding them with fresh tulips, lilies, honeysuckle, mild scents arousing them still further, drifting from their Eden to another, more romantic, less subtle, progression from poor to rich, right to wrong, fast to slow, touch to touch, the end never arriving as they simply lay, exhausted by extravagances, fancied out of lust by gifts, not physical, emotional gifts derived at maintaining a hold on a fellow soul, grip it close to the heart, cease to let it go, maintain it as a constant, a necessary constant in life.


	8. Run

This wasn't intended to turn out like this but it refused to be written any other way

8.

"Thank you for coming in like that," Ric smiled, perching on his desk chair. Rather her old desk chair, the room was exactly the same, the walls the maroon colour, spaced by the decorative modern wall paper, the furniture only slightly different, her clock gone, replaced by a cheap white job, courtesy of the NHS. Her computer still there, the sofa a different ware of leather, his evidentially more comfortable than hers, intentional, she refused to have relatives outstay their welcome. The general atmosphere however was pretty similar, with the ambient lights dimmed and the blinds drawn it became cocoon like, a place where she could escape, in someone's arms or not, it added up to the same thing, a place, similar to home that she could vent her anger, frustrations, anger or angst, happiness, vent her person, the actual human that resided within her, locked tightly in place by the fronts acting like defence barriers, breaking the force of the sea coming in, protecting her inner self, an instinctive emotion heightened by her work, her past, her life now.

"It's nice to be back in here, it holds good memories, the bad too but I feel safe here," Connie mused, her gaze fixated on the clear liquid in the glass, taking her mind of the memory of Will flooding her mind, the moment she'd informed Susan had been one of her lowest ebbs, sinking the wallowing feeling of self pity to near to hell.

"Ahh so the great Mrs Beauchamp felt safe here, it all comes out of the woodwork now," Ric joked lightly, the corners of his mouth falling as her face contorted in disagreement, his comment dissolving several barriers in one acidic hit.

"Not funny Ric, you know my reasoning for sticking around here, Michael lived at the house too y'know, at least here I had some iota of control," her voice was stony cold, brisk unlike the feeling it left her, a deep scar persistent in never healing, so long as Michael stuck around, salt grating it until Ric had come, licking the wound clean so to speak, giving it time to heal, the space to breath, the affection to love.

"Point taken Connie," he muttered remorsefully, moving over to her fragile stance at the meeting table, placing his hands on her shoulders, directing them towards the sofa, taking them down as he sat beside her, replacing the glass of water with whisky, not her normal tipple but medicine for the soul none the less.

"Thank you," she smiled, giving him a fake pretence that she was holding up, he wasn't normally one to ignore it, she knew full well that he was the intuitive teacher who kept the quiet intriguing pupil behind to understand the façade, today however he was willing to ignore it, let her come to him.

"See if it will loosen you up a bit" he commented dryly, his fingers unconsciously running through the soft tendrils of baby hair at the nape of her neck.

"I don't need loosening up Ric," she protested, sipping on the amber liquid with remarkable ease, her hand dipping into the pocket of her trousers, producing a pack of crumpled looking cigarettes of a more expensive brand than his normal choice.

"Connie, it's a hospital we can't smoke here," he protested as she moved forward on the sofa, bringing a cigarette to her mouth, toying with it as she brought the lighter out.

"You own the place Ric, so stop me," the puff of smoke to his face saw rights to any idea of halting her, it was as if the sullen pupil was bringing about an identity, taking a chance to rebel, stick two fingers up to the life. Release.

"Well if I can't beat you, I'll join you," Ric smiled, accepting the invitation, sidling over to the window and pushing it aloft, in a vain attempt to disguise the hideous smell already filling the room.

"See not even you can resist," she smiled coyly, standing up and crossing the room, shivering slightly in the breeze entering the room, piercing her shirt, sharpening the goose pimples lining her body, trailing down her back, surrounding her front in an encapsulating grasp.

"Resistance is the hardest emotion to defy," he mused lightly, flicking the remaining ash out of the window, dragging on the butt one last time before he stubbed it out and turned to face Connie. "You know if you want your job back I'd be glad to abdicate, if I'm honest I hate it," he watch her toy with a smile, unsure of whether to run with it or not.

"You would do that for me," she stated clearly, voicing her pleasure at being given the chance to regain the pleasurable control she'd been given in Holby, her small empire to maintain and rule over, London a dent on the thrills she had in Holby.

"It would be absolutely no trouble at all," Ric smiled, teasing an arm round her waist, lingering till she finished smoking before leaning forward, berating a kiss on her neck, drinking in the complex smell of hospital, perfume, smoke, a day's work, emotion. It was amusement enough for him, to ponder over what she'd been thinking about, it could entertain him for all eternity, her book was comparable to classic, confusing to read with modern day English yet entertaining in a satisfying wholesome way.

"Why not go home?" Connie quizzed, her own arms receding round his waist, snaking a gentle pattern on his back.

"Because here its more thrilling,"

"What the chance of getting caught, I don't want to appear hypocritical to the staff" Connie protested, denying her urge to lurch forward for his lips, toying with her lip instead, giving him a dignified smile, the enticing undeceive one that wriggled her out of uncompromising positions.

"Chrissie the resident bike hardly counts for anything Connie," Ric retorted coolly.

"That bike saw fit for Michael to run to London, her seeing us together will only give her a chance to fan the flames of our marriage,"

"Come off it, who gives a toss about us, Michael is just a spear in this relationship, we have something you two never had," his voice begun heavy, patient he may be but her insecurities about Michael were ridiculous. By his reckoning the only way through the un-penetrative mind of Michael would be to get him back, an eye for an eye, his feelings for Connie were more than friendship, the worry when she was in London seeing put to a few grey hairs, the sadness in her eyes upon her uneasy return breaking his heart, the feeling of satisfying her once again repairing the damage.

"I give a toss Ric, he's my husband" Connie sighed, pulling further out of their embrace, stalking to the opposite side of the room, taking an un-keen interest in the picture adorning the maroon wall.

"But he torments you" Ric replied, raising his voice slightly, leaving his drink on the desk, moving into Connie's comfort zone, pausing six feet from her vehement stance.

"Yes but he's my husband, why do you make me do this Ric, why the hell do you make me choose all the time?"

"I do nothing of the sort, Connie you are free to choose,"

"But in London all I did was compare you to him Ric, every little thing he did was compared to you, I had you on the brain, Ric, and now well it's the opposite, now I can't stop thinking about Michael, feeling guilty about being here and not with him, disappointed in him, angry with him, like him, shit why do you do this Ric, why?" Ric was glad of the distance between them, at least now he was missing the vicious combination of her glare and pointing finger, admiring the fiery temperament with pleasure of knowing its appearance intimately.

"Connie calm down,"

"No I will not calm down," her power speech was interrupted, the sound of William Tell ringing out in the office, polyphonic in tone and register, the slime black phone whipped out of her pocket in an instant, puzzlement crossing her face as she took the call "Michael" Ric's face sank parallel with hers, stepping forward he was met by a hand. "New one to me, she never had MRSA" as she paused her hand fell, immediately drawn to her forehead, a pensive rubbing motion ensuing, "no, Michael, I'm not coming back to London, I thought my midnight flit would have made you understand, no you listen, sod the flaming hospital, don't you dare, don't you even think about pulling rank on me" after a momentary blip the final sentence came along the lines of "Fine" with the phone being slung back into her pocket in one swift move.

"Michael wants me back in London for a board meeting about a patient of mine who supposedly had MRSA now can you get me back to your flat so I can pack my things"

"Connie you cannot be serious about going back, they can manage without you surely," his protestations were unheard over her motions to leave the room, his suit jacket thrust to his hand.

"Ric, listen the patient in question had CF, I'd treated her for nearly 18 years, I'm not about to let her down at the final hurdle, leave it out ok,"

"Connie I admire your loyalty but please he's just going to get up to his usual tricks, don't go, not like this," sounding positively weak she ignored him and lifted her keys from the hook, leaving the room with her bitch strut and slammed the door behind her.

"Fine" Ric sighed, returning to his drink, going after her now would be ludicrous, so about turn, grabbing his coat he left the office in the darkness it bathed in.


	9. Far Away Voice

Sorry for the delay, I'll blame school, my life :P yes I have one rolls eyes and general laziness, this part comes with a warning about disturbing content, my warped mind playing tricks once again.

9. Faraway Voice

"Then unfortunately ladies and gentlemen I shall have to accept Connie's resignation, I'd like to formally thank Mrs Beauchamp for all the hard work she put in during her short stint here" the resounding 'here, here' bore too much of a scary resemblance to that of in Holby, biggest difference though would have to have been one voice was missing, Ric had at least put feeling into his remorseful regret. She smile weakly as they all rose from the table, each one passing her a solemn nod on their way out of the door, all except Michael. He'd clearly been waiting for his moment all day, she'd appeared first thing in the morning, choosing to spend the day cooped in her office, supposedly sorting out paperwork, avoidance by any other word. Only emerging with her purple notebook in hand and a wicked smile to match, she'd dutifully followed him into the room. Sitting opposite him on the elegant mahogany table, facing him directly, close enough for piercing stares, far enough away to quell the urge to hit him.

Fury was quantifying itself by the rising bile thrusting up her throat. The first time had been bad, the second attack was supposed to make her immune, have a stronger response; it wasn't. Her body was indecisive, tearing between falling into Michael's arms, forgetting the fact he'd near enough orchestrated her redundancy, returning home to Holby and regaining power or doing neither and drinking herself into a state, lower than low.

As she slipped into the unfamiliarity of her office she was aware of his footsteps behind her, able to at least provide an iota of sense to check that she was actually ok, rather put up a front that he cared, they were both vehemently aware of the fact the point of infatuation with the other had been lost years ago, the point of caring for the other was fast drifting to the noted abyss. In all honesty if he were to die tomorrow she wouldn't be terribly upset. As she came to sit on the desk chair the faint tinkling of glass, his ideas similar to hers, drinking themselves out of discussing, out of having to face the harsh truths of passing more than a polite conversational word between them. If she were in any a better mood she'd start talking to him, purely for the entertainment of watching him squirm violently. Talking, rather counselling was something Michael didn't take kindly to, unless it was of a nature that required sexual interruption.

"Look I'm really sorry Connie, it was out of my hands,"

"I'm sure it was Michael, but a little support wouldn't have gone a miss," her fury was missed by no one, the casual stun she added to it, venomous with the gentle force of a cat purring, silent rage boiling over intensely.

"Connie we needed to act in the best interests of the trust, after all a bad hospital doesn't get many patients, does it? Without patients, no funding, no funding no hospital,"

"I'm not two years old" came her spitting response; it was one thing to deny her of support in the board room, that much was known and commonplace, but to continue his pride bashing speeches out with was grating at best. At worst it annoyed so much as to tri fold her anger, on severe occasions spiralling out of control. Combining his lack of interest in the health of her soul, neglect of satisfaction in the bedroom department and the general sleaze ball manner he was rapidly adopting, she was pushing the limits of acceptance.

"But you do know it will benefit the greater good of the hospital, right?" coming from the one man-lets save the hospital machine it was normal, she'd never married that person, she'd married the strong caring tower of wisdom, even if it had been for a bet. No matter how much she avoided that thought it remained tremulous in her mind, tormenting her when all other ideas were absent, the quiet moments.

"Michael is that all you care about, your hospital, does it not cross your single tracked mind that you have a wife, the possibility of a family, a life outside this place"

"You're hardly angelic yourself, Connie, I know you're playing away too," he smiled coyly, taking pride in watching her squirm, another one of the silent games that they played with each other, neither willing to admit it.

"Says he who got caught pants down on my ward,"

"Hardly, I was merely reassuring her that you weren't as bad as she thought you were"

"Michael you were screwing my registrar, just like you rode the bike in Holby, Michael you never change, never have done, never will do," her voice lay heavy in the tumultuous idea of uneasy defeat, the idea of a long walk in the park, thoughts in hand of little comfort.

"Connie I love you, they, they mean nothing to me, trust me" and how many times had that been said, Ric had been right, he used her, dropped her, took her back, used her… it was a vicious cycle which was about to started all over again, start the monotonous dance, sway from right to left, as per usual, have the ultimate make up sex, usually involving him going at 100mph turning over and collapsing into a deep slumber, unlike the way she wanted it, the way she enjoyed it, having fun yes but it was more to her, a power tool in given circumstances, a beautiful sacred bond to be cherished in others, the latter supposed to be with your husband, your soul mate, the problem she was facing was attempting to decide which she preferred, her soul mate or her husband.

"Michael, Michael just leave it, I'm going home," the smile subconsciously telling him not to bother returning home in the near future, picking up her bag she stalked from his intimidating hunch, taking her coat as she glided out of the room, the click of her heels moving down the linoleum clad floor. Turning the corner and drifting off towards the door with deep-seated anger and force he winced as the door to the ward slammed shut, staff's fearful footsteps in its wake.

A momentary pause and he was still stood there, swithering like she often did, daring his soul to go after her, hiding behind his conscience. Decisions with Connie needed to be made snap, quick, undeceive, straight to the point. Picking up his winter coat and brief case he made a point at trying to catch her before she started a strident walk home. If she were determined enough it were possible to do it in an hour, meeting her at home could at least be a surprise for her, nasty perhaps, but he was beginning to see through her initial façade, see through the shield she put up even to him, it wasn't a matter of comfort per say, it was more of belonging. His emotional intelligence stretched far enough to understand the subtleties of her being angry and her hurting; being in a mixture of both was not conducive for anyone, least of all him.

The car park was deathly still, only a few luxurious cars lining its outer rims, the sign of hard working consultants; his own a top line merc, its warming seats comforting him as he spiralled out of the car park and onto the equally quiet streets, following her logical path home.

Her solitary figure reflected in the headlights as he crawled along the street a few off their own, winding his window down as his car drew to walking pace beside her " Connie, look I'm sorry, I want to make it right, why not get in the car, its cold, your tired, I'm tired, a goodnights sleep will help"

"What part of no do you not understand, I want to be on my own," she spat contemptuously, unflinching from her hunched stance, slowing her pace so it was increasingly difficult for Michael to drive.

"Connie please, let me take you home,"

"No Michael, you go home, I want to walk, sod off before I…."

"Before you what Connie, I can tell your hurting, please just get in the car"

No," her pace grew to a standstill, he paused the car momentarily, soon speeding off, turning down the road and disappearing out of sight. With only a ten-minute walk or so to get home Connie tore off up the street, taking an unsafe detour along the roughest part of their neighbour hood, the shops at its entrance gathering up with groups of children, varying in age, gender, namely of the same race, all white. Swiftly passing them by she continued off up the street, unaware of the person following behind her, she couldn't care less, from the shadow increasing behind her she could vaguely make out the build of a man just passed the prime of his life, taking a stroll down the still street, she couldn't blame him, she was there for the very same reason. Escapism, leaving the thought of returning home to a turbulent relationship with a man she was positive no longer loved her, to sit for hours on end, wine in hand, thoughts in motion, inviting it most certainly wasn't. Taking the time to admire the tiny postage stamp gardens so lovingly maintained by people jaded and bored by retirement.

As she meandered down the least suspect side street the presence behind her didn't cease up, had the feeling of loss and distrust not been so strong she was convinced that fear would be overwhelming her, it wasn't. As his footsteps grew louder in her mind she quickened her pace, forcing the heels of her shoes harder into the tough concrete paths. She shouldn't have bothered walking faster, it was only leading for trouble, the man behind her had pulled off, instead another suspicious looking character stood in front of her, bathing in the unnatural orange glow from the lamppost. The shiny appearance of his leather coat concealing what was beneath, his jeans loose enough to perform any act, yet tight enough to conceal their secrets.

Stepping out in front of her his voice spoke in harsh, dim tones "You got a light," simple enough question to answer, yes or no but Connie couldn't help but keep silent, drummed into her by pensive parents the words I stranger danger /I rang out in her mind.

"Sorry I didn't quite hear your response there, what was that?" His gruff voice was too close to hers, his nose sniffing the tendrils of perfume that remained on her neck, his mouth whispering the words into her ear, attempting to be sweet, the dust from his breath unsettling her skin into goose pimples.

"No, I don't smoke, sorry," liar, she was still reeking from the cigarette she'd had before work, however distant its scent may have been. Her lips pursed tightly as his hand encased her arm, grabbing it tightly and dragging her out of the safety of light, pausing by a short cut between two towering flats, its eerie path fading out into darkening abyss.

"Hand over you god dam lighter bitch," his grasp around her arm loosened as he gripped her tiny neck, holding her body close enough for her to feel his heart beating, it was erratic, simultaneous to his behaviour, ferreting around in her coat pockets as she put up little struggle, the other man watching her carefully as her foot stamped in protest at the invasion, her trousers loosening as his hands wandered, encompassing her hips, her screams muffled by the hand holding it closed…

Intrusion

Dirty little slut

Secrets


	10. From a Distance

This part had me in bits to write, its got strong content that could be triggering and upsetting, passes tissues round,

ENJOY is the penultimate part

10.

"We need Connie to stay in overnight, she's quite shaken up," the oversweet nurse commented as Michael stepped into the bustling emergency department, his monster of a wife lying on the trolley, her right eye obscured by a nasty looking bruise, her neck branded with strangulation marks, the rest of her body concealed under a gown, her hands placed over her middle protectively, the distraught evident in her eyes, their hazel nut brown resembling the coals of black as she turned away from him. Pride lost.

He shuffled uncomfortably towards her, what the hell was he supposed to do with her, she'd been brutally raped, attacked, invaded. He no longer felt she belonged. She no longer felt like she belonged. Disjointed.

"I brought you some fresh clothes," he muttered apologetically, thrusting the carrier bag of items to the floor, plonking himself onto the seat beside her, reaching through the silver barriers of the bed, attempting to take her hand, in her recoil Connie winced at the pain as she moved. "How are you feeling?" was his next stupid question, vaguely attempting to imagine what she'd just been through was making him anxious, let alone what she was going through.

"Take me home," she whispered, her voice sore and hoarse, the echo of it eerie.

"They want you to stay in overnight sweetheart, I won't leave your side though I promise," he stood up and leant over her, intimidating her already invaded space, her barriers were truly broken as little effort was made to put him in his place, shirking further into the bed her legs drew up to her chest, the itchy covers engulfing her as she forced her head further into the pillow.

"Michael I want to go home, please," she protested as his eyes looked pitifully at her, humiliation was the understatement.

"I think it would be better if you stayed in" Michael smiled cautiously, built for emotional traumas of affair he was but for the fact his wife had been raped were another kettle of fish. Not wishing to feel selfish and mean he gave her a hopeful look and bustle out of the cubicle, glancing back at her. She wasn't Connie. Everytime she attempted to move her hand its resting spot would recoil, her face contort in disgust and her position change once again.

Returning minutes later his face still bore the same pitiful smile, coyly covering up his own anxieties about their, her situation. "You can come home tonight but they don't recommend it, Connie just stay, you'll be safer here"

"I don't want to be humiliated anymore, I'll need a hand getting changed" she said concisely, slowly easing herself forward on the trolley, her legs swinging round to reveal a multitude of sins, bruises teaming up and down her thighs, concentrating in number as his eyes worked up her body.

She let the shoulders of her uncomfortable gown slip down to reveal butterfly kisses masticating themselves as bruises gently hastening a shade of purple, deep scratches adorning her left breast, his hands had clearly been at work, disgusting little bastard.

As she attempted to fix her bra in place he could near feel the pain cruising up her arms from the red raw skin, the stench of cheap hospital soap emanating from their pulsating wounds. Her lent over her purple shoulder, gently doing the clasp he'd so often undone in the past, it wasn't so easy this time. She'd been violated, his place taken by a disgusting little stranger, doing things up was going to be tough, her foundations no longer existed, he could tell. Tears, her tears were real. Sorrow, her mourning was real. Pain, real. Every emotion she feebly concealed was real. Tearing her up. Stealing her of her.

Her jeans slid up her legs painfully, slowly inching their way up, covering each mark as they did so. Her feet slipped uneasily into her shoes, he could tell even they had been touched, probably stood on in her struggle.

"Its ok, I'll get you home now, Coco it will be ok," his voice was empty, she wasn't paying attention, it was clear her own hell was overcoming her, her vagrant look depicted this, the only key to her emotions were her eyes. Their deep brown abyss spoke in few full words. His arm tentatively drew round hers feeling the recoil through her soft fluffy jumper, its material sticking to odd parts of her skin, her arm reaching round her middle, protecting her ribs from movement, two broken by his feet stamping on her tiny body as she recoiled, pain that would only fade with time.

He was only trying his hardest, it was all he could do, stand beside her and keep her from falling, her path to their car torturous enough as they were spotted, pitiful looks on peoples faces as they took in her sight, hair frizzy from manic washing, face without war paint, face without barriers. Clothes fashioning themselves oddly round her body, husband giving everyone death looks. They able to move on.

Her head rested against the pillow, faintly smelling of her perfume, her old self, the person she no longer felt she was. Wasn't. Belonging to no one, blinded into obscurity. Blackness. Who was she now? That question was like attempting to derive the length of a piece of string, impossible to determine, every answer acceptable.

Why was it that it took something like this, something like rape that would throw them together in a lost manner, two strangers meeting as if it were their first time? She'd never gotten herself used to the thought of a happy marriage; she knew her personality wasn't designed for that. It had been come from lust, they both knew that, personal problems they had with each other were exactly that, personal. She'd never let her guard down with him, not even grieving for Will, not even when she'd narrowly missed being scorched alive. They were issues she would mention off hand over dinner, being passed off as another day at work.

She couldn't settle in their bed, it wouldn't have mattered if it were a camp bed in an Iraqi army camp, she could feel her entire body relive the moments of the night before, the confrontation, the movements, the attack, the act. Her arms mimicked the slashing motion, stridently reaching out in all directions, hitting the headboard, the empty space beside her, the table laid with a bunch of flowers. He could do nothing but watch her, stunned. Placing the mug of steaming liquid on the bedside he took her sniping arms, gently forcing them to her side. "Connie, come on sweetheart, your having a nightmare, its ok"

"I'm sorry Michael," she sighed, moving back into the pile of freshly plumped pillows.

"Don't be sweetheart, its not your fault," Michael sighed reassuringly, making shifty movements to the door, stopping and talking to her his idea of a nightmare, nursing her wounds, bringing her tea, fluffing pillows he could do, coming to terms with the trauma of event something beyond him.

"But if I hadn't gone down that street, if I had just got in the car with you, it, it wouldn't have happened," shedding a tear as her voice quivered Connie stole her eyes away from Michael, clearing her blurred vision, too proud to cry in front of anyone. The doorbell rang, startling Connie.

"Let me get it, you just rest," Michael smiled, shuffling out of the room, coming to the solid wood front door he undid the numerous locks. "Ric"

"I got a call from the hospital, apparently Connie's been hurt, I just, well I wanted to check she was ok," Ric stumbled, his cheeks pulsating in embarrassment.

"I, I don't think she is up to visitors just now, perhaps try in a day or two," looking rather flustered, his mind a million miles from the house, from the person standing before him, from his life, "I'll tell her you called" he muttered as an after thought.

"Michael, who is it?" came the weak voice, drifting down from the bedroom.

"No one sweetheart, its just an old colleague of yours, news appears to have travelled fast," Glancing intently at Ric, he sighed heavily, "ok, five minutes, but she really isn't up to a whole lot"

"Thank you," Ric told him politely, moving past him and up the stairs two at a time, dawdling down the corridor, sneaking a peak at each individual room, gasping in mild jealousy, pausing as he reached the door to the master suite.

"Ric" Connie startled as he stepped into the room, shocked to standstill by her appearance, the purple bruise adorning her eye and cheek, the strangulation marks round her neck, the upset on her face.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit" Connie mumbled, her eyes following his movements to sit on the crisp white armchair at her side, his hand clasping hers, immediately tempering her emotions

"I'm not surprised, I got so worried when you called from the hospital,"

"It was awful Ric, I don't think I've ever been so humiliated in my life, its all my fault, I shouldn't have gone down there, if only I'd gotten into the car," she admitted, toying with the tissue resting in her stiff hands, her legs stretched outright under the duvet and blanket.

"Connie a life of what ifs aren't a live worth living,"

"But I was annoyed at him, I lost my job, I went up a dodgy street and got what I deserved," she replied, rather retorted, endless hours of pain had driven her to decipher the only reason behind the attack was to teach her a lesson.

"There is no way you deserved that Connie, no one does"

"I did, I hurt so many people, reaping the seeds I sew I guess, even Michael can't bare to look at me now,"

"Connie everyone is just upset, they feel sorry for you," Ric sighed, waiting her to open up, yet not do the typical thing and blame herself, talking was about the only way she was ever going to over it, he knew that, she knew that but neither was open to admitting it.

"I don't want their pity, I just want to forget the whole bloody affair," she protested, her voice cut to barely above a whisper by the pain searing up and down her chest, cursing as she found a comfortable position.

"You know that won't help anyone right?" Ric smiled

"IT will, they won't need to worry about me, I don't want it,"

"Connie please, talk to me" Ric squeezed her hand tighter, willing the information to surface.

"Not even Michael can talk to me, he avoids me," Connie told him evasively, once again averting her gaze out of the window, avoiding the big pink elephant stood in the middle of the room.

"Michael is dealing with it in his own selfish way, it's you I'm more concerned about Connie," Ric retorted coolly, patiently waiting her response, slowly her gaze returned to his, resting for a moment.

"I…I…can't, not yet" her voice broke, quivering then disintegrating, her eyes welling up, her composure crumpling, tears, a hug, more tears, a reassuring hand to wipe them away, a light opening up at the end of a long dark tunnel.


	11. Crash and Burn

H'ok I'm sorry it was so long in coming but inspiration only truly hit on the beach on holiday, so yeah I may also have been slightly intoxicated when it was being done but its finished, I've got the sequel started and is called _Blame it On the Moon _so keep an eye out.

* * *

_Chapter 11.Crash and Burn_

It had taken the several weeks after the attack for Connie to come to make sense of its effects. Physically her wounds were healing perfectly, doted on by Michael who was trying his hardest to please her every beck and call, for very little in return. The one thing neither husband, nor wife had done yet though was talk to one another, he didn't do that well. Actions he could, sitting with her as she vomited after another restless nightmare in the small hours of the night he was able to do, talk to her, make her see sense was something he couldn't.

Without Michael's knowing Ric had continued to visit after their first encounter only hours after her return from the hospital. Both he and Connie had found the solace of a local coffee bar, he discussing the short life of his second grandson, she still quantifying the mountain of her attack. To assume that she was letting it drag was wrong, Connie had previously been a person to hold emotions so close to her chest that not even her husband had been able to release, trying to talk about it was pointless, she'd either have a battle with her tears to stop them falling or she'd change the topic of discussion in an instant. Ric knew this was the case; she would draw him into a vicious cycle of blame disgust and unease, he attempting to break it. There would be moments, mostly at home when she would release anger, cry either on her own in the bath, or in front of Ric whilst they kept a warm fire company. He would patiently listen to her regale the same confused story. How she blamed herself for being foolish enough to walk that road, blame herself for putting Michael in such an awkward position as to pick her up from the hospital, see her bruised and tattered body he'd thought of as his own, semi private temple.

All in all it reduced itself to blame, the disgust in thinking that it wasn't her fault, that she was innocent in his dirty, sick dreams. They'd heard nothing from the police, nor did they expect to. In one visit, lasting more than two days Ric had persuaded her into the idea of reporting the rape; releasing the evidence she'd let them collect. He'd sat for hours with her at the police station holding her hand as they'd looked through copious numbers of convict books, to see if her attacker was in fact a re-offender. The night after they'd done so Ric had vanished as quickly as he'd appeared. Leaving Michael to wine and dine her in their minor celebration of progress.

Over many a coffee he'd come to suggest that she ditch the ideal and tattered perfection of London to return to her own quiet kingdom. He'd told no one apart from Jess about the affair, she'd needed an explanation as to why he kept scampering off. Connie still possessed keys to their tiny mansion in Holby, she's curtly told Michael that she would move to London provided they kept it, that or divorce. Everytime he suggested it he pictured it slightly more clearly than the time before.

"Please Connie," he sighed as they made slow progress of the twenty minute walk back home. "You'd be far more happy in Holby, I know that much, it's silly for me to keep coming down here, you always look upset,"

"Ric, I was raped for God's sake, am I not allowed to be sad?" she retorted coolly, readjusting her scarf so it covered the last stages of a bite mark she'd been left with.

"Connie you didn't die," Ric scolded her sharply.

"No but it's hard for me, leaving, leaving now would..." she trailed off, uncertain herself of the reason why she needed to stay in London, "let the attacker, whoever he may be, win."

"But you aren't living a proper life Connie, you are scared of your own shadow at night," he protested.

"Ric it just wouldn't work, Jess needs you in Holby, you are running the hospital, the last thing you need right now is some whimpering has been clogging up your life," Connie retorted pitifully, striding out in front of him slightly as they made their way down the icy road.

"Jesus Connie, is that what you think you are to me, that you are some sort of burden, I wouldn't have wasted near on my entire pay check on coming to see you if I thought it to be a waste of time." Ric sighed, quickening his pace to catch up with her.

"Your problem then isn't it, if I move to Holby I'd simply increase the guilt of it all ten fold, I wouldn't wish that burden on my archenemy," Connie told him vehemently.

"Please it would put my mind at ease more than anything else, I could arrange a job for you, make you medical director if you really want it," Ric could see her smile lightly, using her job as a bargaining tool was something he didn't think he'd be reduced to but it was proving ever powerful.

"Don't do that Ric, you know I didn't want to leave Holby in the first place, returning is simply out of the question," her smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Why? If it were a place that made you happy why don't you entertain that thought, please," Ric was verging on sounding like a petulant child, he sorely wanted her to be with him, but never if she were there against her will and incredibly strong belief.

"Just, just leave it Ric,"

"Fine then I will Connie, but just don't expect me to be running after you in months to come, I'm sick of your games," he shouted, immediately regretting it at every passing word, he never meant for anything he said to come out harshly, it was one of his attributes, yet he'd stifled all of those in an instant.

"Goodbye then Ric," she shouted, resting her hand on the edge of her gate.

"I'll be on the half five train back to Holby if you change your mind," he sighed, lifting his hands up in a fit of anger at his own stupidity.

She crossed the threshold of her London home, sinking her feet gently into the soft blonde carpet. Lifting the various layers off she hung them neatly on the coat rack, something she'd done since she was a child. Wandering through to the sitting room she was startled by her husband's rare presence at home. He'd taken to staying late at work, attending every dance and ball under the sun and going into work far too early with a raging hangover. Avoidance was one word high up in the vocabulary of Michael Beauchamp.

"Michael," she smiled sweetly as she entered the room, slouching into the tough leather sofa. Sat before him were two glasses of whisky, one near enough drained, the other waiting to be drunk, the amber liquid shooting shards of light round the room.

"Where were you?" he asked offhand, sitting forward in his impressive armchair, staring intently at her answer.

"I went out for a coffee, why?" she told him evasively, shifting uncomfortably, clasping her legs up so they were underneath her.

"Nothing, I just thought you'd be home, I don't suppose you heard that shouting match outside, that was one very out of love couple," he spat clearly suspicious of his supposedly ill wife's movements during working hours.

"I didn't particularly, it's their business, I doubt I can handle other peoples' problems at the minute," she lied; whether he'd seen her through the lifeless bay window she was unsure.

"Who was he?" Michael asked forcefully, clearly taking none of her miserable attempts at concealing the truth.

"Ric, why is there a problem with me having friends," she spat, unwilling to rise to his level of confrontation, they'd done nothing illicit or wrong since the attack, before that was by the way, they'd both been up to no good then.

"Yes actually, when you spend your hours sleeping with them in our marital bed," his paranoia had clearly reached new levels, she'd half-heartedly expected this in the past, to be as much paranoid as guilt ridden about his doings.

"I have done nothing of the sort EVER," she raised her voice instantly, regarding Ric as close as friend as she did it wasn't up to her husband to dirty his good name.

"Oh really," Michael taught his eyebrow in suspect. He knew Connie was still vulnerable, but he also knew her to be an avid player of games, the moral sort that only a certain breed of people would entice in.

"Yes Michael, some of us still posses a modicum of moral fibre, I'm going upstairs," with her statement Connie rose from the uncomfortable sofa, nimbly climbing the stairs two at a time, swiftly locking the bathroom door behind her. Slipping into an indistinguishable heap on the floor fresh tears filled her eyes, soaking her jumper sleeve within a minute. In one fell swoop she'd lost the support of her friend and the respectability with her husband, it was crystal clear that something was eating him up, most likely sexual frustration, they'd not actively slept together for several months, since her first night in London if she was frank. She was unsure if he'd taken to picking on idle staff members to satisfy his needs, or whether he'd been reduced to paying someone, it wasn't like she gave a dam. What was more concerning to her was the rage in which Ric had stormed off in, unable to leave to Holby until half five was giving him the perfect opportunity to gamble what little pay he'd left himself, she hadn't thought to take his credit cards away from him, who would of? Thinking of him turning to such a vice in contempt was hurtful; it clearly showed a greater devotion to her. So what if he'd not held her at nights when she woke in a cold sweat, when she cried out in protest to stop, when she took a poker hot shower at two am. He'd been there during the day, when night wasn't there to cover her.

"Connie, I believe you," Michael whispered through the lock on the door, its tiny gap providing a clear view of her mousy brunette hair.

"Go away," she sobbed, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"I'm just worried, you haven't been the same since the attack, I want the old us back," he continued, the commotion of him sitting down giving her time to build a stronger response.

"Newsflash Michael, you've got a waste of space wife who cannot face the idea of sex with you," Connie spat, feeling her eyes begin a puffy ascent to emotional breakdown.

"I don't want sex with you Connie, I just want you to be happy," he sighed, though the mini psychologist within her knew he was lying, his idea of being home in the middle of the day was to give another valiant attempt to win her round.

"I am happy for the time being Michael, seeing friends, being on my own is all I need just now,"

"It doesn't sound like it, please I'm beginning to feel like a spare part in this marriage,"

"You know you're doing all you can," Connie lied, slowly moving round to face him, despite the door being in the way. "I love you like I did the day we met, the high's we've been through, the lows we've taken, the passionate moments, now,"

"Then prove it," Michael replied, speaking two steps in front of his mind, cursing inwardly as soon as he had done so.

"How?" Connie questioned, not entirely sure how his warped mind was working.

"Kiss me," he smiled, as she slowly opened the door, the two of them sitting just clear of the footprint the door occupied, he toying with his hands nervously, her biting her lip.

"I can't" she told him, suddenly lifting herself from the floor, "I may if you do something for me though, I need a lift to the train station," she smiled, hopping down the stairs to get ready.

"What the hell is going on Connie?" Michael questioned, following her out the door, grabbing his coat on his way.

"I need to do something before I kiss you, Michael," she smiled getting into the passenger seat. As he started up the car he raised an eyebrow, under any other circumstances he was sure she'd be accused of loosing the plot, never feeling the need to pay attention to the psychological effects of rape in med school, it had been one lecture his hung over self had forgone.

They didn't speak until they reached the tiny car park at the edge of the train station. Connie released the seat belt and got out of the car, dipping in and out of melting puddles, scanning the giant information screens, thanking whatever Lord that be she ran towards platform nine. "Ric," she called not able to actually see him till she reached the last carriage.

"Connie," he sounded in surprise, fumbling in the pockets of his thick grey coat, "I didn't think you'd come," he smiled, spying Michael in the distance.

"Neither did I, he wants me to kiss him Ric, I don't know, I can't but I want to, I need to feel loved but can't give it back in return, please help me," she waffled, stopping as he pressed a finger to her lips.

"Do you want to kiss him?" he asked hurriedly.

"No, I want to kiss you," she smirked, reaching up as they let their lips brush together, Michael stopping feet from their embrace, watching in shocked horror as they took it further, the lips pressing tightly together before releasing, her arms reaching round his muscular frame. In one breath Michael could tell she was happy, yet he was jealous, they hadn't felt that spark for quite sometime, ever even. She seemed so mixed up and confused all in the same instant, happy yet sad, gleeful yet sombre, stolen yet given. A mess.

The END


End file.
